The trouble with Georgie
by NancyMay
Summary: How does Phryne Fisher return to Melbourne after flying her father back, and what changes to her life will happen. All chapters will be published together, as it is written and it took a long time.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

It had been annoying, at first, irksome as the journey progressed and highly frustrating when she got to the London house. The most irritating part was that the financial situation was nowhere near as bad as she had been made to believe. The family were solvent, the estate was rented out for the season, not sold, and her mother was clearly up to something. Now, Phryne had no illusions that she was not the favourite daughter, Janey had been that, but Janey was gone and she had come to terms with that so she was a little confused to say the least.

At first Margaret had been delighted to see her daughter, threw a coming home party for her; which she didn't want because she wasn't stopping - well not long anyway; then started to organise lunches, dinners and afternoon teas with available Lords and Viscounts, Barons and Earls that were either too young or far too old and looking for their last ditch attempt to continue the family line. To keep the peace Phryne danced and made small talk with these men but she had no desire to engage with them any more than that.

Henry pulled her aside at one of the soirees Margaret had arranged and whispered in her ear.

"Phryne, dear girl, you do know what she's doing, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she scoffed, "but I'm not the marrying kind."

"She doesn't believe that, you know," Henry pouted, "she thinks all she has to do is find the right person for you and you'll fall head over heels."

"Fat chance ..."

"Here, yes," he smiled, a conspiratorial smile, "but I think back in Melbourne... anyway, she sees it as your duty."

"I don't know what you mean," though she did. He had seen her kiss Jack at the airfield, had made a show of it holding them up. "Anyway, duty be damned - I am not going to marry any of these 'appropriate' men, I have no desire to be used as a brood mare!"

"I'd get yourself back there, tout suite, if I were you, before she delivers a fait accomplis."

Short of her mother tying her up, drugging her and dragging her to the altar Phryne didn't see how she could do that but for some strange reason she decided to heed his words. She slipped up the stairs to her bedroom, on the pretext of needing to 'powder her nose' but it was really to think on what he had said. Ordinarily she would suspect her father of colluding with her mother to see that further funds came into the family through marriage, but somehow he seemed to want to distance himself from it. Of course, if he didn't she would probably blame him for whatever ills befell her.

She flopped down onto the bed and stopped. There was something under the cover, paper, or, as she discovered when she drew back the blanket, an envelope addressed to her. She drew out the contents and smiled. For once her father had done the right thing - she held in her hand a ticket for a parlour suite on a liner that was leaving the following morning. It would be an early start but better than the breakfast with Lord Gauke her mother had planned.

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Two suitcases, larger than the one she had taken in the plane, were filled as best she could with enough clothes to see her through the month's voyage home. She had slipped out of the house at a disgustingly early hour, taken a taxi to the docks, and boarded the liner, relaxing as the shores of England slowly disappeared from view.

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Her contact with Jack and her Wardlow family had been by telegram, mostly, some letters and birthday cards when appropriate, but she hadn't been able to tell her odd little family when she would be coming home. She told, in short sentences of the boredom, the cold and the arguments. She told how she was longing to be home.

The telegrams she sent on the voyage home were from the ports they stopped at, as if she were flying, the ones to Jack hoped he was well and that she was looking forward to seeing him very soon. She told him she missed him, in ways she did not understand. Somehow his replies found her, forwarded to the ship from the port. He said he missed her sitting on his desk, that no one could take her place and how sorry he was that he was not able to follow her.

MY DOOR WILL ALWAYS BE OPEN TO YOU STOP NO NEED FOR THE PICKS STOP JACK.

Which she took to mean the front door of his little bungalow, that she had found at the end of one case, as opposed to his office door.

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She kept every one of his telegrams, the ones that let her know he missed her to ones that showed he hoped the kiss, and the dare to follow her, were not just a passing 'romantic overture'.

As her subterfuge continued she knew it was the best way. If she told Dot and Mr B she was on her way home, and when she would arrive they would throw a big party, which was not what she wanted so soon after she put her foot over the threshold, so she resolved to sneak back into Melbourne, hail a taxi and go and surprise someone.

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She spent the voyage keeping very much to herself, as much as she could. She wore dark clothes, appearing to be in the later stages of mourning and found most people just nodded their greetings but left her to her musings and her solitary dinners. She thought this would drive her to leap overboard and swim home, due to boredom, but a complete volume of the bard's works kept her mind occupied finding messages to send to Jack in the lines of the plays or sonnets.

She also spent a lot of time thinking about her father and what he had said when they were home. True he had been quiet on the flight, but she presumed that was because he was frightened out of his wits but when they had got to London and the truth about the estate had come out he had looked like a naughty boy caught out telling fibs. He had always been a good actor, especially in front of a Judge, and it would seem he had put those skills to good use when running her ragged before she flew him home. She wondered if it was in his plan to be flown home given his aversion to that form of transport, or did he just have to bring her with him. She would never know, really, because her mother held the answers to those questions and she didn't care to find out.

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Margaret was livid when she found out Phryne had skipped town. Henry feigned complete ignorance and suggested she had gone to see some friends, perhaps.

"You barely give her time to catch up with them, dear," he smiled, "and you know she had expressed a desire to go and see some of her school friends. You could try them."

She rang round all the friends she could think of but all said they were surprised Phryne was in town and disappointed she hadn't called. They assured the Baroness that they would send her home if and when they caught up with her. Henry avoided the subject, he didn't fancy the row or that she may suggest he go and fetch his daughter back again. He hadn't been a good father but he hoped this may go some way to redress that. It was clear to him that Inspector Robinson was more than a detecting colleague, there was a mutual respect there, and really, he had much more backbone than some of the men Margaret put forward as potential husbands. If the title and land and money hadn't come their way he had no doubt Jack would have arrested Phryne frequently, their paths would have crossed of that he was certain, better that it was this way, as equals. He resolved to telegram Phryne just to warn her that her mother was on the warpath.

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Phryne read the telegram from her father and for a few moments pitied him. He would weather the storm, he would have to, as he had noted though they were solvent if he kept going to Australia to bring her back it would deplete the funds faster than betting on three legged horses.

She would write to her mother when she got back and had a small idea of where she and Jack were heading.

Jack, dear, patient Jack. She had never felt like this about a man, not even Rene. She had never felt as if she meant more than just a quick fling, or a light distraction. With Jack she felt on a level, on equal footing; certainly intelligence-wise, both had a need to right wrongs one way or another and though she went about it in a cavalier fashion, just over the line of the law, he never held a grudge, well not for too long. She hadn't had anyone in her bed for quite some time and while she missed the sex she didn't miss the feeling of being used or using someone just for her own gratification. In fact there had been times when it had all been rather mechanical and boring - a non event. She had even considered taking Mac to bed but her sapphic curiosity had long since waned, a girls' boarding school did that for her, and she didn't want to use her friend that way.

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The shore of Australia was in sight. Phryne stood at the railing on deck and watched it slide ever nearer, slowly but surely. She felt her stomach do a little back flip of excitement and she shivered. It would be early Sunday evening when they docked. She was hoping Jack would be at home, perhaps reading. He would end up there, whatever else he was doing so even if he wasn't she would let herself in. She had no plans to go to Wardlow that night to be fussed over by Dot or Mr B.

She carried her own cases off the ship and hailed a taxi, giving them Jack's address. Intent on her path she didn't notice a certain pair of taxi drivers waiting for fares on the docks, but they noticed her.

"Isn't that Miss Fisher?" Bert pointed to her retreating back.

"Can't be, she'd a called ahead," Cec shook his head, "anyway, hair's not right."

(It had grown and was on her shoulders, curling slightly.)

"Think it is," Bert chewed on his cigarette.

"Well, she didn't call so we'll leave it," Cec folded his arms, "she'll have her reasons. Maybe a case and she don't want to be recognised."

Bert just grunted and threw the cigarette butt to the floor.

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Phryne sat and watched the familiar streets roll by, she felt nervous, which was silly she told herself, Jack wouldn't turn her away; if he was in; she refused to entertain the idea, but she was taking a chance.

The taxi pulled up outside the small bungalow. The garden was neat and tidy, the plants bursts of colour in the tubs and planted areas, Jack didn't have borders round a lawn, he had patches of roses, chrysanthemums and azaleas.

She declined the driver's kind offer to carry her suitcases to the door but included a generous tip with his fare. He touched his cap and wished her well, she watched him drive off before heading up the path.

Phryne stood in front of the door and took a deep, steadying breath. She knocked ... stood back and waited. Not wanting to be seen using her lock picks, mainly for Jack's reputation, she lifted her cases and headed round to the back, which was not overlooked and she could pick the lock of the back door.

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The crunch of feet on the gravel had him look up, he wasn't expecting visitors, certainly not dressed as he was.

Phryne grinned at the sight of her buttoned up inspector kneeling in front of a tomato plant, harvesting the fruit. He was placing them gently in a basket in which was already some freshly pulled beetroot and a cucumber. He wore an old shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar undone showing the top line of his singlet. His trousers were baggy, rough cotton, held up with a pair of braces that had seen better days, but were still serviceable. His hair was loose of its usual pomade and the front flopped over his forehead. He had obviously not shaved over the weekend, his chin had unmistakeable stubble, the beginnings of a beard and moustache, she thought she might like that.

"Phryne!"

"Hello Jack," she tried to sound nonchalant but there was a little squeak at the end of her usual greeting.

He stood up and brushed his hands down his trousers as she carried on walking towards him.

She stood directly in front of him, just close enough.

"You're back," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek then pulled it away aware of the dirt, "did I miss a telegram?"

She took the hand and leant her cheek into it, "no," she murmured, "I thought I'd surprise you. Nobody knows I'm back."

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds, her with her cheek in his hand he not attempting to pull away.

"You didn't fly?" he gestured to her suitcases.

"No, not this time, father bought me a ticket on a ship."

"Your father?" he gasped.

"Mm," she smiled.

Suddenly realising he was being, in his eyes, inhospitable, he invited her in, lifting her suitcases while she took the lighter basket of fruit and vegetables.

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In the kitchen he washed his hands and filled the kettle, almost not daring to look in case it was another of his all too vivid dreams. He heard her put the basket on the table and felt her behind him.

He breathed in her scent, how he had missed that, usually arriving before she did. She was really here, in his little kitchen, choosing him over her Wardlow family. He turned in the little space she had left between them.

"Did you come straight from the docks?" should he make small talk or sweep her off her feet and carry her to his bedroom?

She nodded.

"The red raggers ..."

"No, just a taxi," she shook her head. "Like I said, nobody knows I'm back." She tipped her head. "Jack ..."

"Phryne ..."

Phryne reached round behind him and turned the ring off under the kettle, not breaking the kiss until she absolutely had to and even then she leant against his chest and sighed.

"I missed you," he whispered, stroking her back, "it was too quiet."

"Lock the door, Jack," she tipped her head up to look into his blue eyes.

He tipped his head and she could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye as he leant over and locked the door, while still holding her with the other arm.

"Is this really what you want, Phryne?" he stroked her cheek with his finger, "I'm just Jack, a copper, no grand family home or long heroic history ..."

"I'm the daughter of a con artist..." she gave a little laugh, "are you ready to take me on, as I am ready to take you, 'just Jack'?"

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The early morning sun sneaked between the drapes at the windows throwing a line of light across the two figures in the bed. She lay across his chest with her legs splayed over much of the rest of the bed. He lay with his arm around her and one leg over hers. She sighed and swallowed. She smelt sex, the earth that he had been working in the previous day and the remnants of her perfume. He felt her lips turn into a smile as she remembered them moving from the kitchen to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing, finally ending in the bed where he proceeded to make love to her and she found him rather skilled in that department. Underneath his layers of the coat, suit, shirt and singlet John (call me Jack) Robinson was a man of many talents! He drew circles lightly on her bare shoulder eliciting a shudder.

"Phryne," he whispered, "Phryne, I'm sorry but I have to go to the station."

"Can't you ring and say you're ill?" she huffed.

"You know I can't," he squeezed her, "nothing would give me more pleasure than to spend the day here, with you, but I have a duty to uphold."

She looked down at the tenting of the sheet and smirked. "I can think of something else to uphold," she giggled.

"Woman," he growled, "temptress. Will you be here, tonight?" he added softly.

"We have much to talk about, Jack, if you want me to be here ..."

"I think I should like it very much. It's a long time since there has been someone at home for me," he kissed the top of her head, "though I would never presume to have you as the little woman waiting for her man to come home after a hard day's toil," he added quickly.

"Just as well," she gave a small laugh, "with the way things are with us you're more likely to be waiting for me."

"Mmm ..." he pushed himself up, "either coming in from dancing or a little breaking and entering."

"Only for a case, Jack," she pouted, "and I like dancing."

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While Jack showered and prepared for the day Phryne headed for the kitchen in search of tea, or coffee, and at least toast. She didn't know what he kept in his fridge or pantry but she was sure there would at least be bread and butter, and she wasn't a complete novice in the kitchen.

By the time he came through, suited and booted, hair combed and kept in place with his usual pomade and clean shaven there was tea, toast and bacon on the table, together with a fried tomato, courtesy of yesterday's harvest.

"Not quite Mr Butler's standard ..." she started to say.

"Phryne," he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly, noting how gorgeous she looked in his shirt, hair mussed up from bed, oh how he would like to stay with her today.

"Eat," she pulled away, reluctantly, "you need to keep your strength up."

"Promises, Miss Fisher?" he teased, sitting down and tucking into the breakfast.

She sat opposite and drank a cup of tea and nibbled, her own, piece of toast.

"You didn't have to do this," he wiped the last traces of the bacon and tomato off his plate with the toast, "but I'm glad you did."

"We both missed dinner," she set her cup down, "and I did ... have to do this." She was almost embarrassed but he decided against letting her know he noticed.

After a light hearted argument about the washing up Phryne sent Jack on his way and assured him as he left that she would be there when he returned, and if she wasn't she would make sure she let him know where she was. He wondered if she would alert Dorothy and Mr Butler, or go to Wardlow and speak to them. Phryne too was wondering if she should let them know she was back but decided to think on it over the next few hours.

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The bed was a mess, it told of the previous night's activities and she didn't want Jack to be embarrassed by his cleaning lady, if that was how he saw to such things. Actually, what did he do about the domestic side of his life? Did he do his own laundry, she had noticed a washing machine in the kitchen, and housework? She stripped the bed while the bath was filling and dropped the sheets into the laundry basket. Fresh sheets were located in a cupboard outside the bedroom so she remade the bed, plumped the pillows and smoothed down the eiderdown.

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That evening, after a simple supper, Phryne opened up about what she had found in England. Jack let her ramble on, knowing how difficult it was for her to be so open. He showed his surprise at her father's sensitivity over getting her back to Melbourne and frowned at her mother's determination to marry her off.

"I told father I wasn't going to be used as a brood mare," she sipped her whisky and nestled into his shoulder, "I don't see how she could have forced me to marry."

"Me neither," he agreed, "then there is the producing a child, it doesn't always happen, me and Rosie didn't manage it."

"Did it matter, to you?" she turned and tried to see his face.

"At first, I think so, perhaps Rosie more than me," he was staring into space, remembering the tears each month and the arguments, the blame. "Then I went away to war and when I came back I wasn't sure I wanted to bring a child into a world that tried to solve its problems by fighting. If it happened it happened but by then we had grown apart, the war ... did you ever want children?" He knew her feelings on the subject, now, but wondered, if when she was younger.

"Rene beat that out of me," she sat up with her back to him, trying to steady her voice.

"Phryne, I'm sorry, I should have known he would have something to do with it," he put his whisky down and reached out for her.

She sniffed and held her head that little bit higher, "it was a long time ago." There was silence for a minute or two, Jack was sure that she had more to say so he waited, his hands on her upper arms.

"They told me it was a little girl," she whispered dropping her head.

Jack leant forward and lifted the glass out of her hand then turned her to him and pulled her onto his chest. He listened as she whispered and sniffed her way through the beating Rene had given her when he found out she had caught, that, knowing what he would say, she had kept it a secret for as long as she could but at six months or thereabouts, he had beat her so hard Veronique Sarcelle had taken the bleeding and screaming young girl to the hospital where her baby had been born, given its first and last cry and been taken away before she could ask to see her. The doctors had cleaned her up and Veronique had taken her to her and Pierre's apartment to recover.

"I thought you always used ... protection," Jack stroked her back.

"He didn't always give me the chance to put it in," she shrugged, the storm having past. "You, and Mac, are the only ones who know, not even my parents or Aunt P have ever been told. It's easier to pretend I don't like babies."

"Do you ... like them I mean?"

"I don't really know," she sighed, "not having been in close proximity to many, and Mary's baby ... well it was the first one I had seen close up for many a year, and I'd never seen a new newborn." She slipped into deep thought. "You're not planning something are you, Inspector?"

"I wouldn't dare," he smiled down at her, "and anyway, that kind of thing should be a joint decision - I'll wait for you to tell me."

She stuck her tongue out at him, he swiftly dipped to cover it with his mouth and they sank into a deep kiss.

For a few days they lived this way. She would send him off to work with a reasonable breakfast, more than he would normally make himself, and then see to the house and bathe. She would dress conservatively, hide most of her face with a hat and head out to purchase the means to make a dinner for the two of them in the evening. They spent those evenings talking and loving,. in truth they learned to live as a couple, man and wife, partners. It didn't take long, really. Phryne found contentment even though she knew she would not be able to sustain it indefinitely so they came to an agreement. She would go and announce her arrival to Dot and Mr Butler and that Jack would live, part time, with her. When she needed space or he did he would remove himself to his bungalow, if they both needed to be quiet after a case they would both go to the bungalow and she would become the elusive Mrs Robinson. This would be their life until such time as she needed the distraction of other men in her bed. She was honest with Jack about this but at the same time assured him that it was unlikely, he was enough for her. He, in turn, told he that he would try to be the best he could be for her, that he loved her in a way he had never loved a woman before, not even Rosie. He agreed that cases may cause them to argue, perhaps even fight and that keeping the bungalow was the best way to allow them that break they may need. If they were subtle about this maybe nobody would pay them any attention, after all he often paid her a visit after a case had been closed and unless there was someone twitching curtains nobody would know if he left - or not.

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Jack pulled up outside her house and turned off the engine.

"Ready?" he took her hand in his.

"Ready," she nodded and breathed deeply, "dinner, tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he smiled, "but I will ring, if I'm delayed."

She leant towards him and he kissed her softly on the lips.

"See you later, Jack," she opened the car door.

He got out from his side and helped her carry her cases to the door, then, with another chaste kiss to her cheek he left her, as planned, to meet Mr Butler and Dot and settle back into what was her usual state of being.

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She let herself into the house and called through.

"Mr Butler!" her voice rang through the quiet, "I'm home!" She sounded as if she had been away for a week, not months.

"Miss!" Dot shrieked and ran through from the kitchen followed at a respectful pace by Tobias Butler his impassive face showing no surprise his mistress would just arrive without fanfare. He gave a little smile as Dot flung her arms round Miss Fisher and hugged her, hard.

"Miss Fisher, so glad to have you back," he nodded politely and went to lift her suitcases from the doorstep. "Do I expect Albert and Cecil at the kitchen door?"

"Not this morning, Mr B," she disentangled herself from her companion, "Inspector Robinson brought me round. One of those suitcases is his, he will be staying." She gave the information as if it was nothing out of the ordinary and apart from raised eyebrows from Dot that was how it was taken.

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Over coffee and freshly baked biscuits Phryne explained why she hadn't alerted them to her return and hoped they would understand. She also, briefly told them what arrangement she and Jack had come to.

Neither commented but both had seen it coming, one way or another.

Phryne spent the rest of the morning arranging for her hair to be cut back into its usual short bob and going through the correspondence Dot hadn't forwarded to her. She rang her aunt and suggested she come over for tea one afternoon so she could update her properly on her parents.

"Really, Aunt Prudence," she sighed, "it was nowhere near as bad as father had made out, or mother, it was all a ruse to get me back and married off."

"Oh Phryne," Mrs Stanley gasped, "I would have thought your mother knew you better than that, by now."

"It would seem she chooses to ignore what she knows and goes her own way, still, I suppose I should expect nothing less. It's not as if I have to produce the next in line, they have Georgie for that."

"Indeed, dear," and they left it at that, Prudence agreeing to meet her for tea the following day.

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Hugh Collins couldn't miss the lightness in Inspector Robinson's demeanour over the last few days. He hadn't asked if he had heard news of Miss Fisher, but he had confided in his wife about the change in his character.

"He seems much happier, Dottie," he had mused one evening, "as if he's had good news or Miss Fisher has returned."

"She hasn't, Hugh," Dot shook her head as she took the plates to the sink, "I would know, where else would she go?"

"You have a point," he nodded.

This particular morning Jack breezed in and gave him a cheery "Good morning, Collins, all quiet?"

"Morning, sir," he had managed to gasp out, "nothing to report."

"Well, I expect that will change soon," he laughed, "Miss Fisher has returned, our peace will no doubt be shattered in due course."

"Oh, er, yes, sir," Hugh stammered, "perhaps the crims will run for cover, though."

"We should be so lucky, Hugh," Jack took the offered cup of tea and headed to his office where he took off his coat and hat, sat down, put his feet up on the desk and grinned to himself.

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Phryne was sitting in the parlour, going over reports from her accountant when he arrived in the evening.

As he had left the station he had taken a deep breath. Instead of heading to his bungalow, for the first time he was going straight to Wardlow without a case as an excuse. He wasn't worried about Dot or Mr Butler's reaction though breakfast might be a little bit strained, it was using her home as his. Still she had managed to use his as hers, though Phryne would not have such doubts or worries about how other people perceived their relationship.

"Good evening, Inspector," Mr Butler let him in, took his coat and hat and left him to go into the parlour without announcing him.

Phryne looked up and smiled as he stepped over to her and kissed her lightly.

"Hello, Jack," she sighed, "quiet day?"

"How did you guess?"

"You didn't call me," she pouted.

"Yes, it was quiet, perhaps news of your return has got round," he went to the side table and poured them a whisky each, a habit he had got into at his bungalow. "Your day? I see you've had your hair cut, pity I quite liked it a little longer," he teased.

She raised an eyebrow, he'd never commented on her hair or dress before save that a certain dress was 'lethal'.

"Just going over reports from my accountant," she waved the folder of papers, "so far all is well, very little impact from the world of finance. Most of my investments are in manufacturing and that seems to be holding its own."

"Good, let's hope it stays that way," he handed her her drink, "and although I'm not exactly wealthy, love, I do have a bit put away." He blushed, they hadn't mentioned money in their relationship and he wasn't sure how to tell her he didn't want to be a kept man.

She seemed to understand what he was trying to say but she knew it wasn't why he loved her, her money.

"Better save it for a rainy day, then," she raised her glass, "here's to us."

He sat next to her and chinked his glass against hers, "to us."

"So how did it go with Dorothy and Mr Butler, he seemed remarkably sanguine when I arrived?" Jack slipped his arm round her and she settled comfortably against him.

"Something tells me they were just waiting for us to see what they have seen for a long time," she sipped her drink, "apart from Dot looking surprised that I was so open about you living here, part time, she did mutter something like 'about time'," she shifted her head so she could see his face but all he did was his little sideways head tip.

Jack found he was less uncomfortable than he thought he would be over dinner, after all he had dined with Phryne on a number of occasions, and a drink and game of draughts in the parlour afterwards was nothing unusual. Mr Butler stepped in to ask if there was anything his mistress required before he turned in, Dorothy had left to go home to her husband but had left everything ready for her mistress.

"No thank you, Mr B," she smiled, "goodnight."

"Goodnight miss, sir" he nodded, "I have locked up for the night."

"Lovely," she took two of Jack's pieces, "see you in the morning."

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It was the first time Jack had been in Phryne's bedroom with her. He'd been in the room before, carried there unconscious after being knocked out by a combination of the Baron's nerve tonic (accidentally drunk) and the edge of the door being pushed into the side of his head, but not with her, not as her lover.

Dot had laid out his pyjamas and Phryne's nightgown, which made him smile, somehow during the nights they had spent at his bungalow nightwear hadn't featured.

"Well, Dot's taking it all in her stride," he slipped his arms round her from behind and nibbled her ear.

She hummed and tipped her head back to expose her neck and leant against him.

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Six months later:

"You know, Jack," she curled against him. "We haven't needed the extra space of the bungalow, at all ..." they had just cleared a tough case, the murder of a factory owner who treated his workers badly, Phryne had done some sneaking around and they had argued about her putting herself in danger after she had been caught by some more belligerent workers and been stabbed. The knife had hit her collar bone and deflected into her shoulder. It wasn't a deep wound but the man had been aiming for heart - she had moved, just in time or he wouldn't have been able to have the argument with her. He had held her gently after Dr Macmillan had patched her up, and they had both cried - she because she was in some pain, high on painkillers and his disappointed hurt look had struck her more than words could, and he because their new relationship was so young and he wanted to grow old with her.

"... perhaps we could manage without it," he hummed, "let it out to some deserving couple. Selling isn't really an option, not at the current time."

"Dot and Hugh are still living with his mother," she shifted in his arms, "and you know how much they can afford."

"Alright, well ..." he reeled off what he paid for gas and electricity and his average phone bill, "so ..."

Phryne reached for his notebook and pencil and they did some calculations, including Dot's wages and worked out a reasonable rent that would leave them with enough to consider starting a family.

"Dot doesn't want to give up working for me, and I suppose, after an appropriate amount of leave she could bring any sprog they have here," she mused.

"Still avoiding newborns, love," he grinned.

She batted his arm and pouted, "I dare say she'd keep it out of my way."

"Well, perhaps we'd better put it to them before Mrs Collins, senior, throws them out," Jack put the notebook back and pulled her back down into the bed.

"Yes, Dot did say it was getting increasingly difficult to be civil," Phryne agreed, "Hugh's mother is wondering when they are going to produce grandchildren, in her mind Catholics have dozens of children whether they can afford it or not."

Jack didn't comment but he had a feeling Phryne had a hand in that situation.

"Dot says she doesn't want the old woman telling her how to raise her children, which she knows will happen if they have one while they are still living there, and the priest is suspicious of her not having got pregnant yet," she continued, "he suspects them of going against the church's teachings on contraception."

"R i i ght," he hummed.

"As you know, Jack, it doesn't always happen," she finished, innocently.

"Of course."

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	2. Chapter 2

Phryne shifted in her sleep. She was alone in her bed and unsettled, now more used to being with Inspector Robinson, but he was on a night raid.

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Since she had returned from England they had rarely spent a night apart. It hadn't surprised her, not really, having spent the majority of time away from him wondering how she could get him into her bed, and keep him there. It hadn't been too difficult, in all honesty, he had admitted he missed her terribly and had lived for her letters and telegrams. He didn't admit he had dreamed about her nearly every night and some of those dreams had been rather too vivid for his housekeeper to know about. More than once he had hidden his bedsheets and burned them when he burned his garden rubbish - it had become rather expensive. In the end he had purchased a washing machine and Dot had shown him how to use it. He could wash his own sheets and his housekeeper could deal with the rest.

"Just thought it would make things easier for you," he blushed as he explained why he had such a machine in his kitchen.

"Well, sir," she scratched her head, "I suppose it will save time." But she would still scrub his collars.

Then Phryne had come back straight to him and after the few days seeing if they could live together he had moved into Wardlow, his little bungalow only there if they needed space from each other. They didn't and had rented the place to Senior Constable and Mrs Collins, giving them the space to start their own family. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The case was one of young men and women being found intoxicated in back alleys. Ordinarily they would be taken to sleep it off in the cells but these were underage drinkers, wealthy young things who seemed to think illegal drinking was a lark, and had found somewhere where they were served - no questions asked. One or two of these bright young things had ended up in hospital, very ill indeed, their parents notified and it had become a police case.

"Sounds like what they are drinking is suspect," Phryne had observed when he had explained the case and taken her to see one young man in hospital, still unconscious from the night before.

"I agree," he stood at the end of the bed, "but so far we have been unable to find out where these clubs, if indeed it is a club, are or where they are getting their supplies from."

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Eventually, after questioning the youngsters they had discovered that there weren't regular places they were meeting up, word was spread where the night's revelries were to be hosted and the password.

"Sounds like something out of a penny dreadful, or a particularly bad novel," Phryne sipped her, legal and rather fine single malt, whisky, she deepened her voice, "knock twice and ask for Joe."

"Indeed," he raised a quizzical eyebrow and cleared his throat, "so we have encouraged one who has sworn off drink for life to let us know when and where the next meeting is."

"And?"

"Raid tonight," he sighed, "don't know what time I'll be back."

"Do you want me to come?" though it wasn't the type of raid she would be of any use on, she was sure.

"No, no need, love," he shook his head, "you might know some of the their parents and then they'd run for cover."

"They'd probably accuse me of leading their little darlings astray," she laughed. "Well, in that case, Inspector, I'll have an early night and catch up on my sleep, somebody's keeping me awake," she purred.

"I didn't hear any complaints last night, or the night before ... or ..." he winked, stood up and went to kiss her before he headed off to the station to organise his team.

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In the hall Mr Butler waited to hand the Inspector a small basket containing sandwiches for the officers and their leader, biscuits and cake.

"As you'll miss dinner tonight, sir, I took the liberty ..." he smiled his little smile.

"Mr Butler, Phryne is right, you are fast heading for sainthood, thank you," Jack put his hat on and left to do his duty.

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The abandoned building was little more than a shack in a run-down area of the city. There was music, not too loud, and laughter.

"Shame to break up the party, sir," Hugh Collins whispered, "it sounds as if they are having a good time."

"They probably are, Collins, but one day one of these kids is going to end up dead, according to Dr Macmillan, the alcohol they are consuming is strong and in all probability illegally brewed." He waved his officers round the building, they had been instructed to cover all exits - including windows! They were armed but hoped they would not have to even draw their guns, these were children, after all.

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Jack and Phryne had talked about this, that those involved were not much older than Jane. Jane was in France and the French had a totally different attitude to wine which Phryne had talked to her about.

"I don't mind you having a drink with your meal, but please be careful," she had warned, "it's all too easy to have another and not be completely in charge of your faculties, darling."

"I'm not keen, anyway, Miss Phryne," her ward had smiled, "so I'll probably stick to lemonade, maybe a watered down glass."

Phryne smiled at the memory of Jane trying her first small glass of 'full strength' red wine and screwing her nose at it. She didn't mind champagne, or white wine, but all in all, she wasn't bothered.

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Jack pulled his youngest, most baby faced constable to the front and told him to take off his helmet. In the dark alleyway his uniform jacket was barely discernable.

"Right, Stevens," he whispered, "knock twice and the password is 'Bingo', got it?"

"Sir," Stevens nodded, "ready."

Jack and Hugh moved to each side of the door, out of sight and Jack nodded.

Two sharp raps on the door and the crude opening in the door was filled with a very young face.

"Yeah?"

"Bingo," Stevens whispered.

The face disappeared and the door was opened.

Stevens stepped back to let Jack and Hugh enter first and put his helmet back on.

"Alright, children!" Jack shouted while Hugh shone his torch around, "time to go home to bed!"

There were shouts, screams and the noise of breaking glass and the party goers ran around trying to find a way out as more police officers entered. Some of the girls started crying, some of the young men tried pushing their way through, only to be grabbed by a copper and warned, home or the cells for the night and explaining themselves to their parents.

Some tried to brazen it out, they were taken to City South station and accommodated in the cells, charged with underage drinking and told their parents would be informed in the morning.

Those that chose to go home straight from the party were escorted by constables to ensure they actually did go home. There were a few young men who became somewhat belligerent. Two were the ones supplying the drink, which they had got from the docks.

"Bloke selling it cheap," the elder of the two sulked, "no names, no pack drill."

"You do know this is boot leg, don't you, you have no idea what's in it," Jack growled, "some of your mates have been hospitalised through drinking this stuff, he sniffed a bottle and whistled, "grappa, though it's probably nearer to paint-stripper." He re-corked the bottle as evidence and then told Hugh to take the two 'bar tenders' to the station where he would be charging them.

Clearing up the broken glass and removing the bottles to the station took hours, it was gone three in the morning before most of the paperwork and disposal of the alcohol was dealt with. Jack put a bottle in the safe, to be used as evidence and kept one aside to pass to Dr Macmillan to analyse.

"Sir," Collins put his head round the door, "one of the lads is refusing to talk, thinks he's above the law, it would appear."

"Just what I need at three thirty in the morning," Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, "right, let's have a word," he sighed and stood up, "interview room, Collins."

"Sir," Hugh nodded and went off to find the stubborn idiot.

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The boy was tall and fair haired, good looking with green eyes and a wide, generous mouth. He was dressed in a well cut grey suit, shirt and navy blue silk bow tie.

He refused to give Jack his name so as Jack rightly pointed out, that as he didn't know who he was or where his parents lived he would spend the rest of the night in the cells and he would deal with him some time later.

"That depends on when I come back on duty, because, boy," he leant on the table, "you have kept us out of our beds after a hard day keeping Melbourne safe, so you can wait." He turned and looked at Hugh, "take his tie, shoe laces and braces, Collins, separate room for our 'guest'."

"Sir," Hugh grabbed the young man by his elbow, "come on, lad."

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Jack slipped quietly, silently, into the house and took his shoes off before he crept up the stairs. It was now four o' clock in the morning and he had had enough. Sleep was all he needed now, and hopefully no calls from the station before midday. He had swapped the shift rota round for that day, thinking it would be a late call, but not quite this late. He would have to apologise to Dorothy for keeping her husband away for so long.

As he pushed the bedroom door open Phryne stirred. He noticed the covers were a mess, evidence of her tossing and turning, so her plan to catch up on her sleep didn't appear to have gone well.

He tiptoed to the bathroom, attended to his needs, slipped on his pyjama bottoms and tiptoes back into the bedroom.

"You're back," she murmured, without opening her eyes.

"Sorry," he bent to kiss her lightly on the temple, "didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she opened one eye, "couldn't sleep."

"Well, I am not going in 'til the afternoon, the little idiots can wait for me."

"I take it you are referring to the ones you have languishing in the cells?" she rolled over and snuggled against him when he slid beneath the covers.

"Ah ha," he wrapped his arms round her and they both fell into a deep sleep.

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Knowing how late her husband had returned Dot suggested to Mr Butler that they let the lovers sleep on.

"Hugh says the Inspector told one of them he could wait until this afternoon, as he wasn't going in until late," she started to weigh out the ingredients for some biscuits, "apparently this lad wouldn't give up his name or address and it was half past three so the Inspector was a little tetchy."

"Understandable, Dorothy," Mr Butler nodded, "with the near misses some of these young people have had I can see his point."

It was near midday before either Phryne or Jack woke and that wasn't voluntary, the phone rang, disturbing their peaceful slumber.

Mr Butler knocked on the door and waited for one of them to call. It was Jack rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair flopped forward.

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss, sir," he kept his voice low, "the station have rung, there are a number of annoyed parents looking for their children."

"Let's hope they're annoyed with their children and not you, Jack," Phryne pushed herself up, "well, best get on with it."

Jack grunted and grimaced.

"I'll come with you, I think," it wasn't an offer, just a statement and he thought it might be a good idea. Perhaps she could placate some of the mothers though she wasn't one herself.

"Brunch will be in the dining room when you are ready," Mr Butler nodded and withdrew.

Jack took himself to the guest bathroom while Phryne used the en suite and Dot set out their clothes for the day.

He tied his tie as she applied her make-up and they went down to fortify themselves before heading to the station.

"Do you have names for all of them?" she asked, filling a plate with drop scone and fruit.

"One in the cells who refuses to talk. He was one of the ones serving the drink, but he had had quite a few himself."

"What have you done with the alcohol?"

"One in the safe for evidence, one here to go to Mac for analysis and the rest down the drain. It smells like grappa but I am pretty sure it's homemade." He sat down to devour a plate of Mr Butler's delicious food and two cups of strong coffee.

"Shall we drop the one off for Mac on our way to the station?" she wondered if he was going to drive her in his car or if they could take the Hispano.

He nodded, it was impolite to talk with ones mouthful. He swallowed the last of the food and washed it down with the last of his coffee and stood up.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are, Inspector," she grinned, "my car?"

He sighed, "alright."

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Mac took the cork out of the bottle and sniffed then tipped a drop into a beaker, "rocket fuel," was her initial comment, screwing her face up, "I'll let you have the full analysis as soon as I've done it."

"Thanks, Mac," Phryne grinned, "come on Inspector," she took Jack's arm, "let's go and sort out these children."

Mac shook her head and smiled as the two left her office, they would never be a conventional couple but they were probably more committed to each other than any pair that had walked down the aisle.

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"Inspector!" Hugh looked more than relieved when Jack and Phryne walked into the station. Faces turned to look at him and Miss Fisher and voices were raised. He held up his hands, "One at a time!" he called, "ladies and gentlemen."

The voices fell to muttering.

"Right, Collins," he turned to his beleaguered constable, "one family at a time, take the name and while I talk to the parents in the office you go and fetch their offspring."

"Sir," Hugh's back straightened.

"Miss Fisher," Jack stood aside to allow her to precede him to the office, "shall we?"

"Thank you, Inspector," she smiled graciously and nodded to a few familiar faces.

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Jack pulled a chair next to his, his suggestion was that she sit on his side of the desk for the short interviews.

"See anyone you know?" he asked.

"One or two, and one or two who will not want Aunt P to know about this," she sat down, elegantly, keeping her knees covered, for a change.

And so it began.

Some parents were horrified their little darling had been arrested for attending a party. When Jack told them what they were doing and where these parties were being held they took a metaphorical step back, on the whole. The troubled teen was brought through and given a lecture about drinking boot leg liquor, reminded that some of their friends had been hospitalised through it. Some of the fathers clipped their boys over the head and growled that it would be a cold day in hell before they were let out unsupervised again. The girls responded better to Phryne, their mothers were embarrassed as she outlined what happened to young girls who became insensible due to drink. She was not particularly gentle in her approach but it was similar to what she had warned Jane about as she set off for her European trip.

Jack told each and every one of them that records would be kept until they turned twenty one, and if they kept their noses clean until then he would see that the records would be destroyed. Any that came before him on a charge, however small, would have their records filed and kept.

"You mean...?" one father asked.

"Yes, if they come before a judge the records will be accessed and listed in any case." Jack nodded and leaned back in his chair.

As the last family trudged out, their child hanging it's head, it's elbow gripped firmly by the father Phryne sighed.

"Sir," Hugh put his head into the office, "we still have the one who refused to give his name, in the cell."

"Damn!" Jack hissed, "bring him up, perhaps he'll have had time to think about it."

"Did you try any other languages?" Phryne had given the matter some thought, "perhaps he doesn't speak English."

"At half three in the morning I could barely remember my name, never mind another language," he rubbed his temple.

"Well, I'll try French and you can drag up your German, if he doesn't respond," she rubbed his back, "long soak tonight, I think."

"Oh god yes," he groaned.

Hugh pulled the young man in, now a little rumpled from sleeping on the hard bench that served as a bed in the cell.

Phryne shot up, "Georgie?!"

"Phryne! Bloody hell!" he tried to turn and leave, Hugh pushed him down into the chair.

"This is your brother?" Jack looked up at her.

"I had no idea you were in Australia, mother and father didn't say anything," she gasped.

"Er ..." he reddened.

"They did send you, didn't they?" she sat down and stared at him.

"Well, you see, Phryne ..."

"Out with it!" she got up again and went over to him, folded her arms and glared down at him.

Jack though it was like her father all over again, god he hoped she wasn't going to fly Georgie home.

Georgie couldn't meet her eye, Henry and Margaret thought he was staying with friends in Scotland and mindful that he rarely sent letters from school weren't surprised that he hadn't written. He and his friend thought it would be a lark to see how far they could get before his friend's parents realised they weren't at the Scottish estate and had got on a train down to London then got on a ship that was sailing to Australia.

There was so much going on at the estate that the boys hadn't been missed until it was very much too late. Letters to the Fisher home had been missed as Henry and Margaret had stayed with various friends in the country and, as they weren't marked urgent the butler hadn't thought to pass them on. The phone call from Scotland hadn't alerted him, as the Baron and Baroness weren't at home and such a message wasn't one to be passed on.

"Where's your friend?" Jack was now standing by Phryne's side.

"Dunno," he grumbled.

"For god's sake, Georgie," Phryne leant down on the back of the chair her face close to his, "he's your friend, he has a family that will be worried sick about him."

"There's still that boy in the hospital," Jack stood up and went to his desk, "remember. He had nothing to identify him so we had a photograph taken." He fished in his drawer and brought out the picture, "is this him?"

Georgie nodded glumly.

"That stuff you have been drinking, boot leg liquor, is poison. Your friend took more than twenty four hours to wake up," Phryne muttered dangerously, "the doctor treating him says he is lucky to be alive. Now, I need his name, and address and we will have to telegram his parents. Where are you getting the stuff from?"

Georgie gave them the name of his friend, Alistair Ballantyne and his address but refused to give the supplier of the liquor.

"Perhaps your friend will be more compliant," Jack huffed. That boy had been sent home with his parents, still not saying who the supplier was but by the look on his father's face it was only a matter of time.

"So, Inspector," Phryne resumed her seat, "what shall we do with Georgie?"

"Sorry, Miss Fisher, but I am going to have to take his name and address for the records, he has, with his friend, been endangering life whether he intended to or not, then he should be shipped home," Jack sat back behind his desk and linked his hands over his blotter. "Until a passage can be found for him I suggest he is found accommodation, secure accommodation, somewhere here, in Melbourne. Perhaps his aunt would be able to take him in ..." he didn't want to suggest she take him to stay at Wardlow, though he was her brother and she his closest relative in the city, no, in the country. "Also, perhaps you should notify the Baron and Baroness of the whereabouts of their son."

"I shall telegram our parents when I return to my house, Inspector," she wondered how much her parents had told her brother about her involvement with Inspector Robinson, was it worthwhile keeping up the professional appearance? Georgie looked mutinous, he had heard of Aunt Prudence, she wrote regularly to his mother, letters which gave her much joy, but he had never met her. His father had referred to her as 'the old battle-axe', he felt they were not friends. Being so much younger than his sister all he knew of her was that she lived in Melbourne and was well known in the city for her work - what that work was his parents wouldn't tell him. Obviously, from the way she was dressed it was lucrative but he didn't think she was running a high class brothel, she seemed to have a working relationship with this Inspector chap. "As to where he will be staying, Aunt Prudence is possibly the best person to take him in, I shall ask her, for now," she turned to her brother, "where are your things, you can come home with me while I deal with our parents and Aunt P?"

"Collins!" Jack called through, "can you get Master Fisher's things you are holding for him, "he will be going with Miss Fisher for now."

"Sir," Hugh's disembodied voice floated through.

Phryne hauled Georgie out of the chair and pushed him towards the outer office.

"I'll let you know what's happening when you get back," Phryne whispered.

"I'll have Collins drop me off," he smiled back, "so this is Georgie?"

"Sadly, yes," she muttered.

Phryne had told him about Georgie, born when she was at school in England, she was nearing fourteen when he came along, delighting both her parents but they had spoiled him. She had had very little to do with him, the age gap, her running away to France while he was still very young, she had only really spent time with him when she was at home, which hadn't been for long, and when she had taken her father back recently Georgie had been at school. She would be the first to admit she barely knew her brother.

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Georgie was impressed with his sister's car, but not that he was told to keep his dirty fingers off the upholstery.

"Now, where have you been staying, I assume you and Alistair found accommodation?" Phryne started the engine.

"Um, a boarding house," he muttered.

"Address?" she had a feeling it wasn't in the best location but his allowance probably didn't allow for the Windsor and sixteen year olds travelling alone would be looked on as rather odd.

He gave an address in Fitzroy and said he and Alistair had rented one room between them.

"How are you paying for these things, Georgie, and the voyage over here, or did you stow away?"

Georgie didn't answer, obviously his sister was a lot more worldly-wise than he was and her method of questioning was an awful lot like the Inspector's.

"You didn't?!" her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe, "good grief! What if you had been caught?"

"We weren't," he lifted his head and grinned, "and we didn't mean to stow away. We got onto the ship just to have a look around but by the time we were ready to leave it had set sail and we were stuck."

"You should have gone to the captain, he would have seen you safely dropped off at the first stop and sent back home," she sighed, "what am I going to do with you?"

She supposed she was a little bit proud of the way he had managed to get himself safely across the world, but she couldn't show it, she had to be responsible, that would make Jack laugh.

"How were you paying for your lodgings?" she pulled up outside the address he had given her. It was an old property, quite grand in its day, she thought, but like many in this area had been given over to rooming working men.

"Alistair, he had some money," he turned away.

"Georgie, I know you have a reasonable allowance, too much in my opinion but mother said I was just jealous I didn't get that at your age, that said, if Alistair's is as much as yours that would still not be enough to pay your rent and feed you," she pulled his shoulder so he was facing her again. "Where did Alistair and you get the money?"

Well," he drew the word out, "it was Allie really, he knew where he could get his hands on a few quid ..."

She hauled him out of the car, understanding perfectly well that Alistair had taken the money without permission from his parents, so not only was he a runaway he was also a thief.

"Have you paid your rent?" she shoved him into the house.

"We owe a week, the money's in the room," he stumbled towards the stairs. Phryne continued to prod him in the back. She couldn't believe the boys had stolen, from people who had offered them a holiday, freedom from the restraints of boarding school. Ok, she had stolen when a child, but they had nothing in those days, before the baronetcy, and it had been food, not money for luxuries and she wasn't particularly proud of it, she would never have stolen from someone who tried to help. She never stole from Aunt Prudence and Uncle Edward, so for Alistair to steal from his parents was downright ungrateful and when he was well enough she was going to let him know how disappointed in both of them she was.

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The room was small, held a small double bed, unmade, a wash stand and mirror. There was a chest to hold any clothing but that was strewn all over the place.

"Right," she closed the door behind them, "get this lot tidied away, pack yours and Alistair's clothes, make the bed ..." she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

Georgie pulled two suitcases out from under the bed and fished around for the money to pay the rent, Phryne rolled her eyes, they were lucky they hadn't been robbed. Her eyes widened when she saw the size of the roll of banknotes he pulled out.

"Where ..?" she took it from him and quickly counted the money, "Georgie, did Alistair ...?"

Georgie nodded, dumbly, the jig was up, "from the safe in his father's study," he swallowed, "he knew the combination."

Phryne put it in her handbag, she would pay the rent, this money had to be got back to Alistair's family, a wire transfer, she thought. "Get on with tidying this room," she hissed, now really angry with what they had done.

She watched him and it was obvious Georgie had everything done for him. He couldn't fold properly, straightening the bed was a long and difficult task for him, she was going to send a strongly worded letter to her parents about his upbringing.

"Is that everything?" she snapped at the end of over an hour of him huffing and puffing.

"Think so," he nodded and sat on the bed.

"Check the drawers, under the bed and behind the chest," she instructed.

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Phryne paid the rent and dragged her brother out to the car, "get in!" she yanked the door open.

"What about Alistair?" he asked, finally daring to speak. He'd never seen anyone as angry as his sister, not ever. His mother would sigh with disappointment and administer a punishment, usually stopping his allowance his father would bluster but did nothing. If he had known what punishments Henry had dished out to Phryne he would have been extremely grateful that he was born to them in a time of prosperity and not poverty.

"We shall call at the hospital and see how he's doing, then I shall tell him I intend to wire the money back to his parents and sort him out with some form of accommodation, but he will not be staying with you," she turned sharply round a bend.

"But ..."

"No buts, Georgie," she hissed, "what you have done is stupid, illegal, dangerous. One or both of you could have died from drinking that hooch, or been killed. The people who supply this liquor don't care who you are, how old you are, just that you are foolish enough to buy it from them. If you don't pay they think nothing of sticking a knife in you or even shooting you and ..." she pulled into a parking space outside the hospital, "until we catch these men your lives are in danger."

"But we paid them," his voice rose a pitch.

"And you can identify them," she waited for him to get out of the car, "so if they find out you have been caught, and they will ... you and Alistair need to be kept off the streets, out of sight."

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Alistair was still a bit befuddled. He knew he was in a hospital but not where. He remembered drinking with Georgie then everything went black.

He now knew someone had given him up, that his name was known to the police, that was all he was certain of, but he didn't know if it was Georgie. This had started off as an adventure, he had no idea they would manage to get as far as Australia but he was now regretting it. He wondered if his parents knew where he was.

"You've got visitors, Master Ballantyne," a nurse broke into his musings.

"Really?" he shuffled back up the bed, "who?"

"Hello Ballantyne," Georgie waved, "how are you?"

"God, Fisher, where the hell've you been?" Alistair snapped, "you left me for dead."

"Not at all, I called the ambulance," Georgie went over to the bed, "but I had to help clear up before we were caught."

"So what's goin' on? The police know who I am."

"Er ... we were raided, last night," Georgie sat on the edge of the bed, "I had to spend the night in the cells."

"How'd you get out?"

"Rumbled, my sister was with the police, don't know why, but there she was, she's moved us out of the boarding house ..."

"Where to?"

"Think my aunt's," Georgie pouted, "father calls her the 'battle-axe', when she writes to mother."

"Georgie!" Phryne stepped further into the room, "I hope he doesn't! Aunt Prudence is a sweetie, just has her standards and father doesn't meet them, never has."

"My sister, Phryne," Georgie made a brief introduction.

Phryne wasn't going to waste time on pleasantries, "I'm going to wire the money back to your parents, Alistair," she spoke sharply, "telegram them to say you are safe and find somewhere safe for you to stay. I've told Georgie and I'll tell you the same, you have put yourselves in danger, these people you've been buying boot leg liquor from are dangerous. Once they know you've been caught they'll be looking for you because you can identify them. I'm going to find somewhere safe for each of you while we work out what to do with you."

"It was just supposed to be a lark," Alistair whined.

Phryne scowled, "a lark is putting epsom salts in the teacher's tea, a frog in a desk or hiding your father's cigars not stowing away to the other side of the world. Your parents must be frantic - now I'm going to take Georgie and put him somewhere safe, then I'm going to find somewhere for you to stay while the police try to find these purveyors of poison." She huffed and grabbed Georgie, "come on, you." She dragged him out of the room before he had chance to bid his friend farewell.

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Phryne deposited her brother in the kitchen with Mr Butler and asked him to kindly feed him and bring her some tea in the parlour. She put her thoughts in order, what she had to do next, but first phone Aunt Prudence.

It was not an easy phone call, Mrs Stanley was horrified at what her young nephew had done but agreed he could stay there.

"I'm sorry, Aunt P," Phryne sighed, "I shall explain all when I bring him over."

"Very well, Phryne," her aunt sighed, "I shall think of suitable punishments for him, but you are right, your mother spoils him."


	3. Chapter 3

Georgie stood in the hall of the Stanley residence while his sister spoke to the lady of the house. He could vaguely make out an angry voice that wasn't Phryne's and determined that must be Aunt Prudence.

In the study Prudence was shaking her head in disbelief.

"He takes after your father, it would seem," she muttered, "well, if you think he would be safer here I suppose I had better let him stay."

"Aunt P, thank you," Phryne bent to kiss her, "I fear he would be in as much danger if he stayed with me ..."

"From you or these people who are selling liquor to children?" Prudence looked up.

"Both, probably," Phryne admitted, "oh, I know I'm no saint, Aunt P, but I'm not stupid and I buy my liquor from a reputable source."

"And I've never known you steal from a helping hand, darling," Prudence nodded. "Right, he can have a room here, but I shall expect frequent visits from you and the Inspector."

"Of course, we shall come and update you as things progress. Any idea where I can place Alistair, he's a little more amenable than Georgie?"

"Hm," Prudence thought, "oh, heavens Phryne, bring them both here ... I shall find things for them to do on the estate, a little physical activity perhaps ..."

"Are you planning to put them to work, Aunt?" Phryne raised an eyebrow.

"They can exercise the horses, muck out the stables, Brown is feeling his age and missing Marigold. I shall lock their bedroom door at night, strict curfew."

Phryne grinned, perhaps having both the boys here, under Prudence's watchful eye would be good, and perhaps Jack could send over a constable every now and then to see how they were doing.

"Lock the windows, too," she whispered.

"I will," Prudence touched her arm, "he's lucky to have you for a sister, you know Phryne, even if you aren't close. Perhaps he will learn a lesson or two."

"I think I might take him round Collingwood, show him how darn lucky he is."

"Capital idea."

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Prudence looked Georgie up and down and pursed her lips. He towered over her but it didn't bother her in the slightest, most people did.

"Well, young man," she used her 'disappointed' voice, "seems you have got yourself into trouble, eh?"

"Er ... yes, Aunt Prudence," he nodded.

"Well, you are lucky Phryne has bailed you out, so far, if it were me I would have left you in the cell at City South. The police have better things to do than chase after silly little boys and girls who think they are above the law. I have told Phryne I will have both you and your friend to stay until they can find the purveyors of this noxious substance you have been imbibing, but, young man, this is not a holiday," she turned to her niece, "right, Phryne dear, you can leave him with me and I shall await the arrival of his partner in crime ... and I mean that literally."

"Thanks Aunt P," Phryne bent to kiss her cheek, "I'm very grateful to you. Now I must go and return this money and contact both sets of parents."

"Dinner tomorrow, Phryne, you and Jack," Prudence called after her.

"Lovely."

Prudence watched her niece leave then set about showing Georgie where he would be sleeping.

"You can put your things in the chest and wardrobe and when you come down I shall show you the parts of the house you are allowed in."

"Thank you," he mumbled, "er, Aunt Prudence, my clothes, I need some laundry doing, what ...?"

"Bring it with you, your first lesson is to be shown how to look after yourself, luckily I have staff who do that, I don't send my laundry out. Molly will teach you how to scrub your collars and iron your shirts," she huffed.

"Aunt P!"

"And it will be a very long time before you earn yourself the right to call me that!" she snapped, "now, hop to it!"

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Down in the kitchen Molly and Mary were taking tea with Dot. With Miss Fisher out of the house and not a lot needing doing she had taken herself off to deliver a jumper she had knitted for Mary's little boy.

"Molly!" Mrs Stanley's voice cut through the chatter, "Molly!"

"Here, Mrs Stanley," Molly went to the door.

"Ah, Molly ... Dorothy, I didn't know you had come with my niece." She raised an eyebrow.

Dot stood up and blushed, "I am sorry, Mrs Stanley, I came to see Mary, I knitted a jumper for little Teddy, I hope you don't mind."

"That is so kind of you, dear," Mrs Stanley was rather fond of Dot, "so thoughtful. Sit down, I just need Molly to help my nephew do his laundry."

Molly gaped, Dot gasped, she had no idea, having left Wardlow before Miss Fisher returned with Georgie, that the boy was in Melbourne, and had no idea about the trouble he had got himself into.

"Georgie is here until Phryne can find a way to get him home again, I'm afraid he has got himself into a little bit of trouble so he will be staying here. As part of his 'punishment' Georgie is going to learn a little about life and how to take care of himself, which includes doing his own laundry."

"Right," Molly gathered herself, "well, I do believe young men should learn how to look after themselves, Mrs Stanley, after all he may not always have a laundry nearby."

"Quite, well, I shall leave you to it," Mrs Stanley turned, then turned back, "Dorothy, I shall have the car sent round for you, to take you home when you have finished your tea."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Mrs Stanley, I can catch the tram."

"Nonsense, come and see me in the parlour when you're ready," and she left the four staring after her.

"Come on, then, Master Georgie," Molly nodded at the pile of clothes in his arms, "let's get some washing done."

"I don't suppose you could ..." he started.

Dot thought he was turning on the Fisher charm, like his father.

"Your aunt has asked me to teach you, Master Georgie, it's my place to follow orders." Molly pulled him to the scullery.

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Dot knocked on the parlour door and waited to be admitted.

"Ah, Dorothy, good, now," Prudence smiled, "I want you to keep an eye on Phryne for me. Georgie and his friend made their own way to Australia, as a lark, apparently. My worry is, that as his parents don't know where he is Phryne may start thinking about Janey, again, and ..."

"I understand completely, Mrs Stanley," Dot nodded, glad that she had taken her into her confidence, "I take it Master Georgie doesn't know about Miss Janey?"

"I doubt it, I don't think my sister has seen fit to tell him that dreadful story, and I don't think he knows what it is that Phryne does. She told me she kept her conversations with the Inspector on a professional level in front of the boy, but we all know ..."

"Oh dear," Dot sighed.

"Indeed," the older woman mused, "now, the car will take you home, dear, and thank you for your kindness to little Teddy, he's quite a dear."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs Stanley, I can easily catch the tram," Dot blushed.

"Nonsense, if my niece had known you were here she would have taken you with her."

On her way home Dot thought on the confidences Mrs Stanley had shared with her, it was unusual, not the kind of thing a woman with the values she held would do. But, what Georgie had done would remind Phryne and the Baroness of Janey and how she was lost, and Mrs Stanley was very fond of Phryne.

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Phryne sent two telegrams ...

TO MR AND MRS BALLANTYNE STOP ALISTAIR IN MELBOURNE STOP STAYING WITH MRS STANLEY STOP SEND WORD HOW TO GET HIM HOME STOP BANK DETAILS PLEASE MONEY TO WIRE STOP HON PHRYNE FISHER STOP

and ...

TO BARONESS FISHER OF RICHMOND ON THAMES GEORGIE WITH AUNT P STOP HOW DO YOU WANT HIM BACK STOP PHRYNE STOP

... then she went home via the hospital to tell Alistair she had telegrammed his parents and that he would be staying with Mrs Stanley until arrangements could be made to get him home.

"You should be safe there in the meantime," Phryne huffed, "she is planning a little hard labour for both of you, I believe."

"Thank you, Miss," Alistair swallowed, "I'm really sorry for all the trouble we've caused. We thought we'd be caught well before we got to London and then, I suppose we got carried away."

"Getting mixed up with these kind of people, Alistair, you are lucky you weren't carried away in a pine box," she drew her brows together. "Now, the doctor wants you to stay in until tomorrow, I shall collect you in the morning and take you to Mrs Stanley. Until then no one else is allowed to see you except Dr Macmillan and the nurse. Anyone else, yell like mad!"

"Right," he gulped.

She left him thinking on his fate and headed home, to a bath, hopefully with Jack as she had promised him a long soak in which she hoped to join him.

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"Dot! Mr B!" she called as she entered the house, "I need ..." before she finished the sentence, Dot was there to take her hat and coat and Mr B was right behind her with a perfectly poured single malt whisky.

"Perfect," she took the drink and swallowed half of it, "now, all I am waiting for is Jack and any telegrams."

"Telegrams, miss?" Dot asked, "about your brother?"

"How ... you weren't here this afternoon?"

"No, miss, after I laid out your clothes I went to Mrs Stanley's. I had a jumper I had knitted for little Teddy and as you didn't need me I thought ... it was alright, wasn't it?" She suddenly thought she was mistaken and that she should have waited.

"Absolutely fine, Dot, you usually have today off but I suppose with Hugh on duty ..." Phryne went into the parlour and sat down, "so you know about Georgie?"

"Only that he is in trouble and staying with your aunt, miss," she nodded, "Molly was teaching him how to do his own laundry when I left. Mrs Stanley insisted the car bring me home."

Phryne grinned at the thought of her spoilt little brother toiling away at a washboard in the scullery.

"So she really meant it when she said she would have some physical work for them, his friend is to join him tomorrow."

"It would seem so, miss," Dot agreed.

"Georgie and his friend have been buying this boot leg liquor for these parties, the Inspector and I feel they are in danger until we find their suppliers. I have sent telegrams to my parents and to Alistair's so as soon as replies come ..." she stared into space.

"Are you alright, miss?" Dot asked softly.

"I will be, Dot, thank you," she looked up and smiled as best she could, "mother will be frantic - memories ..." she sighed.

"You found him though, miss, and he is alright," Dot reminded her.

"Yes ... this time." Phryne finished her drink and looked at the clock. Jack should be home soon, the paperwork completed. They could bathe and dine and have a quiet evening - well as quiet as they ever were. Perhaps an early night ...

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As Phryne was thinking of ways to relieve Jack's tension Baroness Fisher was going through the pile of mail waiting for her in her London home. Several letters from the Ballantynes, she hoped Georgie was behaving himself, he got into as much trouble as Phryne had when she was at school and a note on the telephone pad to say Mrs Ballantyne had called but there was no message. As they had flitted from friend to friend for the past five weeks it was no surprise to her that the butler had failed to catch them. He was getting a little doddery, perhaps they should think about pensioning him off and getting someone a little younger.

The letters started out pleasant, how nice it was to have a friend of Alistair's to stay, then how the boys went off for whole days without saying where they had been and then the panicked letters that they had disappeared. Had she heard from Georgie? Finally that the police had been called, but they had said they were probably around the, vast, estate, hiding, for a lark. By the time she got to the end of the last letter she had called Henry from wherever he was hiding and was pacing the room in tears.

"Not again, Henry," she sobbed, "please not again."

"I'm sure he's alright, Margaret," he patted her back as she leant against his chest, "he'll be safe somewhere, not thinking. He doesn't know about Janey so it won't occur to him that this kind of jape is not to be indulged in."

"Excuse me, my lady," Leyland, the butler entered the parlour, "telegram." He passed the tray over and she grabbed it, furiously tearing the envelope open.

"It's from Phryne, Georgie is staying with Prudence, how on earth did he get there?" She waved the paper at her husband who just looked bemused.

He took it from her and read it himself. "D'ye think young whatsisname, Ballantyne, is with him?"

Before she could answer the phone rang.

"At last, Baroness," Mrs Ballantyne breathed a sigh of relief, "I've had a telegram, Alistair is in Melbourne, I've no idea how, but Georgie ..."

"Georgie is there too," Margaret interrupted, "how did you find out?"

"Telegram, I take it your daughter is Phryne?"

"Yes, thank god, they'll be safe with her," Margaret gasped, "Georgie is with my sister, apparently, I wonder if Alistair is there too."

"She says she has some money to wire to us, I'm afraid the boys have done something really silly, and he is staying with a Mrs Stanley."

"Mrs Stanley is my sister. What money?"

"My husband noticed a substantial amount was taken from the safe, wages. Alistair knows the combination so we can only assume he took it so they could go on an adventure."

"Phryne has asked us how we want Georgie back, I hesitate to say put him on a ship, not on his own, heaven knows what trouble he could get into," Margaret rolled her eyes. "Please come to us and we will form a plan to get our boys back, safely," she offered.

They finished by making arrangements for Mrs Ballantyne to stay with her and Henry, Mr Ballantyne would have to stay and administer the estate.

Margaret sent Boots to send a telegram to Phryne telling her they would be in touch regarding the return of the boys. She sent one to her sister thanking her for taking them in and sending her love, that was about all she could say, the rest would have to be in a letter or in person.

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Margaret couldn't suppress a smile at the idea that her sister was dealing with two sixteen year olds and heaven only knew what she meant by 'hard labour'.

Mrs Ballantyne was relieved to hear her son was with someone the Baroness trusted, and smiled when Prudence Stanley was described as 'purposeful'.

"The boys won't get away with anything," Margaret assured her as she settled into the room set aside for her, "and my daughter is probably furious with them, whatever they've done."

"Your daughter has wired the money back to us, though we told her to take some for Alistair's keep," Mrs Ballantyne sighed, "we shall stop his allowance for the next term, at least."

"So," Margaret sat down, "how are we going to get our boys back?"

"Lady Fisher ..."

"Margaret, please ..."

"Margaret, I've never been to Australia ..."

"It's a long voyage, at least a month ..."

"Right ..."

"They'll be late back for school ..."

"They already are ..."

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Phryne supposed she was rather glad her mother hadn't requested she fly both boys back to England. She didn't think the moth would take the journey a second time and it would mean leaving Jack, again, something she was not interested in doing, for a considerable time. Committing herself to one man, she found, was actually rather good fun - it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling every morning when he kissed her to wake his 'Sleeping Beauty', a feeling she hoped she would never tire of.

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"Perhaps a tutor, Aunt P," Phryne suggested when she phoned to say how long it would be before the boys saw their mothers. "They are missing school but to enrol them here for a short time ... and I'd rather they weren't out of your sight."

"I agree, dear," Prudence flicked through her phone book as she talked, "I have contacts at the boys' school through the board."

"Perfect, someone strong, though," Phryne insisted, "someone who will crack the whip."

"Of course."

So Georgie and Alistair had to be up early to muck out the stables each morning before settling to their lessons. Mrs Stanley found an ex-military man who had taught at a boys grammar school. He was tough, a little loud, but ensured the boys knuckled down to their lessons. He didn't stop at the academic subjects, either. He drilled them every day, marched them round the gardens and had them do PT. Prudence was very pleased, Major Elliot had the boys so exhausted by bedtime there was not a chance they would be creeping out at night.

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When Phryne and Jack arrived for dinner the evening after the boys had been accommodated no one was more surprised than Georgie that his sister's companion was none other than the Inspector that had thrown him in the cells that fateful night. Georgie couldn't make it out. Jack was polite, not overly formal, he called his sister by her first name, pulled out her chair for her and opened doors for her; heavens he even kissed Aunt Prudence on the cheek when he arrived!

"So, Jack," Prudence smiled as the pre-dinner drinks were served, sherry for herself whisky for Jack and a cocktail for Phryne, the boys were restricted to lemonade, "how goes the investigation?"

"Well, so far Dr Macmillan has analysed the liquor and it is boot leg or moonshine ..."

"She says she's had nicer bathtub gin," Phryne put in with a wicked smiled.

"Quite," he huffed at her, albeit good-naturedly, "highly alcoholic and dangerous. She said we were lucky nobody had died, yet," he stared at the boys who looked down.

"Any news on the supplier?" Prudence sipped her sherry.

"Not as yet," Jack shook his head, "we have plain clothes officers round that area of the docks each night, but really they look older than the customers they are used to serving. The younger officers are a little green to be sending out on such a case."

"You have thought of sending Stevens out, though," Phryne smiled, "he's very young looking and he did get you into the last gathering."

"He'd have to be accompanied by somebody equally baby faced, though, Phryne," Jack sighed, "and I haven't got anyone else like that."

"Pity Jane's in France," Phryne mused, "she would be able to hold her own."

"Now you know how I feel about involving civilians in these cases, Phryne," he pursed his lips, "but, yes, she would."

"Who's Jane?" Georgie had been watching these two.

"Jane is my ward, Georgie," Phryne smiled, "hasn't mother told you about her?"

"No," he shook his head.

"I found Jane on a train, thieving ... she was coerced," she turned to face him, "but she is streetwise and has been drilled in martial arts."

"Oh," Georgie had no answer to that.

"Um ..." Alistair mumbled, "I don't wish to be nosy or rude, but how did you meet the Inspector, Miss Fisher?"

"Over a corpse," they chorused.

"A corpse!" he gulped.

"Er ... Phryne," Georgie stuttered ...

"No, I wasn't the murderer," Phryne grinned, "just ..."

"... in the way." Jack squeezed her hand, which did not go un-noticed by the increasingly perplexed boys.

Phryne laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Phryne," Georgie gathered his courage, "what _do_ you do? Mother said it was important work ..."

"Strange, she usually terms it my 'little hobby'," she hummed, "I'm a lady detective."

"And, though it pains me to say it in front of her, she's the best I've come across, male or female," Jack grudgingly admitted.

"Oh, darling!"' Phryne's eyes widened, "how sweet of you to say so."

"Don't hold me to it, Phryne, please," he sighed.

"Of course I will, you know I will," she laughed and kissed his cheek.

Georgie sighed, he would never understand adults, his sister in particular.

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The other boy, who had been buying the liquor with Georgie and Alistair finally gave up the how, when and where they had to be in order to purchase it. Only on Friday nights - they had to leave a note hidden behind a loose brick at the docks saying where they would be having their little gathering. The bottles were brought to the location where the boys would hand over the money, an hour before the 'party' started.

"Well, that makes it easier, I suppose," Phryne mused over dinner, "we can find a suitable place, out of the way, take both boys to hand over the cash, and catch them at work."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Jack frowned.

"If you are taking my brother I should be there ... to ensure his well being," she smirked.

"Phryne, I'd rather you didn't," he sighed, though it was a token objection, "even for Georgie. These men are ..."

"... dangerous, but so am I, darling, and you did say ..."

Jack rolled his eyes, perhaps he could persuade her to take the boys back to Mrs Stanley while he and the police dealt with the boot leggers.

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A suitable empty house was found, just on the boundary of Collingwood. Just in case the loose brick was watched they had Stevens, in plain clothes, place the note. Hidden in his inside pocket was his police whistle should he be seen and caught and Jack and Hugh were wandering about, again in plain clothes apparently smoking. All seemed to go well. The trap was set.

At the house in Collingwood Phryne had drilled Georgie and Alistair. They were to say nothing above what they would usually say and hand over the money. Phryne was dressed in her usual breaking and entering outfit: black trousers, black coat and black beret. In the pocket of her coat was her gold revolver that she had not told Georgie about. All he knew was that Jack and Hugh, and several other officers were lurking in the lane, smoking, drinking, chatting. Bert and Cec had the taxi hidden round the corner to take the boys back to Mrs Stanley at the earliest convenience.

"Are you sure this will work, Phryne?" Georgie whispered nervously, "I mean does it usually?"

"Nothing to worry about, Georgie, we've done this before and no one will get hurt," she smiled and patted his hand, "but maybe you will think a little more before you try anything like this again." She didn't point out that they didn't usually take school children out on these kind of missions.

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The boot-leggers were heralded by the clinking of bottles, the officers lurking around didn't take any notice as they knocked on the door and gave this evening's password - lark. Georgie swallowed and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before opening the door. He stood aside for the men to enter, carrying a crate of twelve bottles of the evil brew.

"Cash," one of them held his hand out.

Georgie handed over the money and the crate was put down.

"Have a good party," the other leered.

The door was closed silently as Hugh and Jack slipped unobtrusively in, "I'm sure they will," Jack put his hand on the man's shoulder, "but you won't."

"Wha'!" he spun round, "coppers! You little bastard!"

"I assure you he is not," Phryne stood up from where she was crouched down behind the makeshift bar, "and I'll thank you not to speak like that about my family."

Then it all went a little haywire. While Jack was subduing the one man the other had lunged at Georgie. He had been dragged out of the way by his sister who was hit in the cheek by the man's hard and heavy hand. He reached inside for his revolver while hanging onto Phryne by her arm. It hurt, she had to admit, as he dug his fingers into the flesh and muscle and spun her so he could almost point the end of the barrel at her neck. She kicked back connecting with his shin and he momentarily lost his balance - just long enough for Phryne to wriggle out of his grip. She pushed Georgie back behind the bar and struck out, sending the boot leggers gun clattering to the floor. He dived for it, she kicked it out of the way and pulled her own, much to Georgie's surprise, and levelled it at him.

The sure way she held his gaze with the barrel pointed at the centre of his forehead had him gulp and shake. Hugh leant down and grabbed him, pulling him up and handcuffing him before he had time to take a second breath.

"Take these two back to the station," Jack handed his captive over to another senior constable, "charge them and put 'em in the cells for the night." He looked over at Phryne, a bruise was emerging over her cheek round a cut that was trickling blood, and she was rubbing her arm where the boot legger had gripped her.

"OK?" he mouthed at her and was rewarded with a small smile and a nod. "Right, let's get these two home, Miss Fisher," he looked at the two boys, somewhat shaken by what they had seen, "and I suggest you get that bruise seen to," he pointed to her cheek.

"Home boys," she nodded, "let's set Aunt Prudence's mind at rest." As she passed Jack she suggested, in a whisper, that perhaps he would like to attend to the bruises, later.

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Prudence was pacing the parlour when they arrived home. She gasped at the sight of Phryne, and Georgie could see in the bright light of the hallway that the cut and bruise was worse than he had previously thought.

"Right, parlour, you two," she pushed them towards the room, "hot chocolate. Phryne I took the liberty of summoning Dr Macmillan in case she was needed, and I see she is," she pointed at the bruise.

Phryne hadn't really noticed above the initial sting, and it had gone a little numb, that she was bleeding.

"Oh," she touched it with her gloved finger, "thank you, Aunt P," she grimaced, Mac would have something to say about this, "perhaps the study?"

"No the parlour, the boys can see the result of such foolhardy behaviour."

Phryne was too tired to argue and now she knew she was cut it had started to sting.

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Mac was sitting flicking through a periodical, trying to alleviate the boredom as she waited for Phryne and the boys to return in whatever state they were in. She had no doubt that the boys would be fine, Phryne would ensure that, but she sighed as she saw the state of the lady detective's face.

"Oh dear, Phryne, what did he hit you with?"

"I think he had a knuckle duster," Alistair offered, "at least he had something on his hand."

"Mm ... I think you may be right, lad," she guided Phryne to a seat and turned her head from side to side, holding her chin between thumb and forefinger. "Let's get this cleaned up, eh?" she smiled softly, "a bowl of warm water please." She addressed the air and hoped it would appear, at Wardlow Dot or Mr Butler would have brought it in without it being asked for.

She reached into her bag and took out the gauze and disinfectant and set about cleaning the cut, ignoring Phryne's winces.

"Hm," she hummed, "I think a couple of stitches to hold it together, take about a week to heal. It might leave a little scar but I'll be as neat as I can be, make-up should cover it, in time."

"Hopefully by the time mother arrives ..."

"Stop talking, woman, or I shall make a mess of the stitches," Mac grumbled.

Phryne obediently shut up until the wound was dressed then took a sip of the whisky Aunt Prudence had poured for her.

"Right boys," she turned to Georgie and Alistair who had gone a little pale as they watched Dr Macmillan at work, "bedtime. We shall talk in the morning."

Prudence turned back to Phryne, who looked tired, disappointed. "Do you want me to open a room up for you, dear girl?" she sat next to her on the couch, "there's always room for you ... and Jack."

"No, no thank you, Aunt P," Phryne gave a little smile, "Jack will be over to update us both and then we'll go back to Wardlow."

"If you're sure ..."

"I am," she nodded. "Aunt P, how much does Georgie know about my relationship with Jack, apart from the obvious?"

"That you are colleagues, work together for the good of the victims of crime," Prudence raised an eyebrow, "I haven't said anything about your ... er ... living arrangements."

"Sorry, Aunt P," she patted the older woman's hand, "I know you don't approve, but it works."

"I just wish it was a little more of a regular thing, Phryne, for his reputation. He's a good man, he wouldn't ever hurt you , or expect you to change ..."

Phryne put her glass down and leant her head on her aunt's shoulder, it made her smile to think that she was more interested in Jack's reputation than hers but Rene had damaged her more than she was willing to admit to her aunt. Prudence put her arm round her niece's shoulders and they sat in quiet contemplation of all that had happened. She felt her relax and leant back so Phryne could rest a little more comfortably, when she was a little girl Phryne always said Aunt P gave the best cuddles, so she would let her sleep there.

Mac had tidied away her things and washed her hands, but decided to stay a little while longer in case anyone needed her. As it happened Jack arrived shortly afterwards and on hearing the car draw up she had opened the door to let him in, not wanting Phryne to be disturbed. She put her finger to her lips and nodded in the direction of the parlour.

"I think our lady detective is worn out, Inspector," she gave a cheeky grin, "however did that happen?"

"She hasn't been sleeping too well, since Georgie's little escapade," he whispered, "but don't let her know I told you it has bothered her."

"Understood, and I'm not surprised," she nodded. "Now, I know Mrs Stanley has offered a room for you both, but I think Phryne wants to go home."

"The cut and bruise?"

"Cleaned and dressed, a couple of stitches, I'll take them out in a week. Just keep it dry and no make-up over it," she instructed, "now ..."

"Can you get the doors for me, please," he smiled, "I'll carry her out to the car and then if you could alert Mr Butler to our imminent arrival ..."

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Jack thanked Prudence for her kindness to Phryne and said the boys had done well. He slipped one arm under his lover's knees and the other round her back and lifted as easily as if she were a child. She murmured his name but didn't wake.

"Shh, Phryne," he whispered, tenderly, "soon be home."

Mac opened the front door and then the car door for him to settle her gently into the passenger seat. Prudence bustled out behind them with a blanket to wrap around her niece.

"Sleep well, child," she brushed a kiss on her cheek. "Good night, Jack," she squeezed his arm, "we shall see you soon, no doubt?"

"Goodnight, Prudence," he bent and kissed her cheek, a habit he had got into of late, "in the next couple of days, I shall need statements from the boys, but hopefully that is the end of it."

"Good," she smiled and stood watching as they drove off.

"Goodnight, Mrs Stanley," Mac lifted her bag and headed to her car, "let me know if the boys need anything."

"I will, doctor, and thank you."

"You are most welcome," she patted her arm, "goodnight."

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	4. Chapter 4

Phryne slept on until nearly noon. Mr Butler had indeed been waiting for them to arrive and opened the door with a small smile.

"Thank you for waiting up," Jack smiled, "I shall need to go to the station as usual but would you ask Dorothy to let Phryne sleep as long as she needs to and she has a cut and a bruise to her cheek that needs to be kept dry."

"Of course, sir," he inclined his head, "I take it the operation was a success?"

"It was indeed," Jack nodded, "all over, except for court and sentencing."

"Very good, sir, good night." He watched him carry his mistress up the stairs before closing the door and locking it.

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Jack lay her on the bed and undressed her down to her knickers and slipped her night-gown over her head, that Dot had thoughtfully left ready. That would do for tonight. He tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead before heading to the bathroom and washing and changing for the few hours he would be in bed. He hoped this would serve as a lesson to Georgie and Alistair and they would think twice about going on adventures.

While Phryne's dream was unpleasant it had a happy ending and nobody got hurt, well no one but the faceless criminals she and Jack were chasing, so all was good. She had a vague feeling of Jack kissing her and telling her to have a relaxing day, and that he would see her later.

He watched her shift in her sleep and mumble something which made him smile, she really wasn't a morning person.

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Dot checked on her mistress a couple of times during the morning but let her sleep as the Inspector had asked. When Phryne did begin to stir she waited to find out what she would like her to do.

"Urgh!" she groaned, her mouth was dry, "yuk!"

"Miss?".

"Tea, please, Dot," she grunted, sitting up and brushing her hand over her head.

"Yes, miss." Dot left her to wake properly and went to prepare tea, and toast, she thought, that would help start the day.

Phryne blinked as she watched Dot leave the room, the last thing she remembered was leaning against Aunt Prudence's shoulder, she smiled a little smile, knowing Jack had lifted her and carried her away gently enough not to wake her.

When Dot returned with the tray she had used the bathroom and cleaned her teeth and was feeling a little more like herself.

"Quite impressive," Dot murmured, "the bruise."

"Yes," Phryne pouted, "I shall have to hide away from the world until Mac takes out the stitches, I'd like to know what he hit me with."

"Hugh says he had a large ring on his finger, it must have been that," Dot poured her a third cup of tea, "now miss, you need to eat something, would you like something else?" she pointed at the toast.

Phryne looked at Dot's serious face and sighed. She wasn't really hungry, or was she over-hungry, whatever it was she didn't really want the toast.

"Sorry, Dot, I really ... I'll get dressed then come down, perhaps some fruit ..."

Dot lifted the tea cup and put it on the bedside cabinet, this was happening all too often, Miss Fisher asking for fruit for breakfast. Surely ... no ... it must just be the worry over her brother.

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Dot didn't say anything to Mr Butler as she prepared a fruit salad for her mistress.

"Perhaps a drop scone or two," he nodded at the fruit, and raised an eyebrow.

"She didn't want the toast but drank two cups of tea, and I left one for her while she dressed," Dot nodded.

"She's not a regular breakfast eater, Dorothy, though, is she," he reminded her, "sometimes just some coffee, then later in the morning ..."

Dot hummed in agreement and continued cutting up the fruit.

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Phryne still felt tired, it had been a frantic couple of weeks and she had been living on adrenalin and coffee. More than once Jack had tried to get her to slow down or they would miss some pertinent piece of evidence, but she had been desperate to have the whole thing cleared up before her mother and Mrs Ballantyne arrived, then it need not be mentioned, well not in great detail. They would be staying with Aunt Prudence, she had offered and was looking forward to seeing her sister.

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"But, Phryne," she had wondered, "is it wise for her to leave Henry at home, you know what trouble he can get himself into?"

"Oh don't worry about him, Aunt P," Phryne had brushed it aside, "I set up certain financial stop gaps that will keep him on a tight rein. He won't run everything into the ground, but I expect Georgie to do that when he comes of age, he seems to be rather like father."

"Hm, that seems a distinct possibility at the moment, I wonder if he would be better here, where you can show him how to look after things."

"Aunt P," Phryne huffed, "I do not want to become a surrogate mother to my own brother, perish the thought."

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Phryne dressed slowly, a white pleated skirt and red and white spotted blouse with a tie at the hip. She applied a little makeup, carefully avoiding the stitches, and brushed her hair. Perhaps she would just sit in the garden, or read today, relax, she was sure that was what Jack had told her to do, ha! he would think she was following orders. Perhaps she could persuade him to spend the weekend away, just the two of them somewhere quiet.

In the end it wasn't such a quiet day. She had managed to spend what was left of the morning in the garden with a book, one of Jack's Zane Greys, just to see what it was like. She found it an interesting change for a man given to quoting Shakespeare, the term 'widely read' came to mind. She supposed she would finish it, just to see what happens, perhaps Jack would read to her, his voice was soothing and he read with feeling.

After a light lunch during which she decided she might go for a walk along the foreshore her aunt and the boys arrived.

"I know we should have rung you first, Phryne, dear," Mrs Stanley stood in the hall, "but Georgie insisted he wanted to surprise you."

"It's perfectly alright, Aunt P," Phryne bent down to kiss her aunt, "how are you boys?"

"All things considered, Phryne," Georgie shrugged, "I think we are ok."

"We thought we should say thank you, properly," Alistair moved to stand next to his partner in crime though Phryne could barely see him for the armful of flowers he had, "flowers and ..."

"... Aunt Prudence says these are your favourite chocolates," Georgie pulled a prettily wrapped box from behind his back, "it's not much but you got us out of a real hole ..."

"Oh Georgie," she sighed, "what am I going to do with you?" She accepted the chocolates and invited them into the parlour. "Alistair, those are beautiful but they need water, would you take them through to Mr Butler for me and ask him to bring in some tea?"

Alistair trotted off to do her bidding while she took her aunt and brother into the parlour. They sat down and she looked at Georgie. He had Janey's colouring, favouring their father but somehow, or other, she needed to get his mindset the other way.

"You've given me some sleepless nights, Georgie," she sat back in a chair, "I suppose you were lucky to have got here without getting into serious bother, but if you had wanted to come over we could have come to some arrangement with mother and father. The world is a dangerous place, you have to learn that, not even quiet little English villages are devoid of crime."

"Actually I have asked mother, last summer, in fact, if I could come over and see you," Georgie leant forward, elbows on knees and thought about the heated conversation he had had with his mother, "she flat out refused, said she didn't approve of your lifestyle or some of your friends."

"Charming," Phryne looked up as Alistair entered, followed by Mr B carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. "I suppose by that she means the raggers."

"Raggers?" he looked confused.

"Cec and Bert, Jack calls them the 'red raggers' because of their political beliefs," she smiled, "but they are good men, honest."

"I thought they were perfectly decent chaps, and taxi drivers are always needed, aren't they?" Alistair sat down next to Georgie on the couch, "I certainly felt they could be relied on, especially last night."

"I shall relay your confidence in them, Alistair," Phryne poured the tea.

"And mine, Phryne, you know how ... sensitive Albert is ... to other people," Aunt Prudence almost blushed, she had a soft spot for the straight talking driver.

Phryne had found it rather astonishing that her aunt would accept some of the remarks Bert made, or that she would take what he said about remembering Arthur, that he should be remembered, and that it was his shoulder she cried on when they held that little memorial tea for her younger son. In fact Bert had gone up in her estimation that day, that he would set aside his political leanings for her aunt who embodied all he fought against.

They spent a pleasant hour, chatting about school, what the boys hoped to do when they were older - Alistair would be going on to learn how to run the estate - "though I should like to start from near the bottom, you know," he mused, "with the gamekeeper, perhaps."

"A very good idea, Alistair," Phryne agreed, "so much better than taking over with little practical knowledge."

"Well, I already know how to muck out stables," he added, with a grin.

"And you, Georgie?" she turned to her brother.

"I don't really know, but I should like to do something," he hummed, "being a Baron looks to be a bit on the boring side, y'know, all father does is go to his club or play cards, from what I can see. I believe he occasionally attends the House, as is his right, and will be mine, but I should like to have a purpose." He had given the matter some thought since bumping into his sister and her life seemed infinitely more interesting even though she didn't have to work, as such.

Phryne thought there was hope for the boy, after all, and perhaps this brush with the law had awoken some sense of duty in him, that her father never had.

"Well, Georgie," she sighed, "if we can get mother to agree you can come here, for a visit, perhaps next year, or when you finish school."

"Phryne," he tipped his head, he reminded his aunt of Phryne when she wanted to get Jack to agree to something that he shouldn't even consider allowing, "do you think the Inspector would let me see more of what the police do - not go on raids," he added quickly, "but in the station."

"That can be quite boring, Georgie," she warned, "Hugh does a lot of filing and making tea, even as a senior constable."

"Hugh?"

"Collins, you know, the constable with Jack last night."

"Ah, yes, he's the one who actually put me in the cells."

Phryne grinned, Hugh had been a little embarrassed that he had jailed the son of a peer that night and had apologise profusely.

"Blame, Jack," she had told him, "you were only following orders."

"I'm sure we'll find something to keep you out of trouble," she smiled, perhaps her little brother wouldn't be as much of a nuisance as she thought.

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After her aunt and the boys left she told Mr Butler she was going to take a walk along the foreshore, the one she had planned to take before they arrived. She should be back before Jack arrived from the station, but ...

"I shall let the Inspector know where you are, Miss," he smiled.

She took her parasol and left.

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The foreshore was busy, so a quiet contemplative walk it wasn't, but it did give her the time to think, without Dot worrying about her or feeding her constant cups of tea and biscuits.

She watched some families having ice creams, mothers wiping the dribbles from their children's chins, children burying their fathers in the sand or building sandcastles - they seemed to be having fun, the kind of fun she didn't remember having as a child. She wondered if her parents had ever taken Georgie to the beach as a toddler. They hadn't had a nanny, just a nursery maid, but her mother had let her and Janey run wild, for the most part, so perhaps Georgie had had similar freedom over the estate. She found herself sighing.

Over by the bathing boxes she spied a group of the young party-goers. She frowned, from what she had heard in the station they had been told they wouldn't be allowed out unsupervised for the foreseeable future, but she couldn't see a responsible adult. Well, they weren't her problem, they might end up being Jack's, but they weren't hers.

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"No, sir," Mr Butler shook his head, "she just took her parasol and said she was going for a walk along the foreshore and that she should be back before you."

Jack had noticed that when not trying to sort out Georgie, Phryne had been a little distant on occasions. Still as enthusiastic in bed and bright in company but she would drift off into her own thoughts. They had agreed that if one wanted some space the other would give it, and not intrude on thoughts unless asked to. He had wondered if she was finding it stifling, being in a monogamous relationship, but, when he suggested he find a room in a boarding house few nights she had shaken her head and kissed his cheek, telling him it was not necessary.

But Phryne was not back before him, in fact he had been back from the station a whole hour, if not slightly more, and still she had not returned. Something deep down worried him, this was not like her. There was no case she was working on independent of him, and all he was doing was the final paperwork for the illegal drink being sold to children. Apart from the odd theft, a couple of fracas' in the street there was nothing to bother the men of City South.

"I think I'll wander along and see where she's got to," Jack put his hat on, "she's probably lost track of time."

"Inspector," Dot heard him, "perhaps Hugh could go with you, just in case ... and she is wearing a red and white blouse and white pleated skirt."

Jack tipped his head in thought and nodded, it wouldn't hurt to have another pair of eyes, and if there was something he could send Collins for help.


	5. Chapter 5

The foreshore was quiet, now, most families had gone home, fathers had been dug out of the sand, sleepy children had been dragged back home to be cleaned of the sand and ice-cream and mothers had collected the remains of the picnics and placed them in the baskets along with the shells their little ones had collected. Jack could see no one resembling his lover amongst them.

"Miss Fisher was wearing red and white this morning, Collins, and you know what her parasol looks like," he stared along the sand.

"Right, sir," Hugh nodded his eyes lingering on every spot of red he could see, but none of these were topped off with a parasol of any description, never mind the cream one with oriental designs on it.

They headed towards the bathing boxes, Jack suggesting that if they couldn't find her by the time they had got to the last one, he would send Hugh back to City South and fetch some more men to search, by then he would be really worried she had been abducted or was lying hurt somewhere. At this time he just had a niggling concern for her safety.

There was no sign of life around the boxes. Hugh took it into his head to start checking the locks, just pulling the padlocks and shaking them. It wasn't unknown for one to be left open and used by young courting couples, or someone looking for a bed for the night.

They were quite some way along the line of boxes, checking each lock and between them and behind them. The sun was going down and Jack was now very worried. He was hungry, she would be too, and thirsty, and possibly rather cross. The inside of the boxes were usually only lit by a kerosene lamp, some were furnished with camp beds or blankets so if she was inside one she would be ... frightened wasn't the word but he remembered her father had locked her in cupboards to break her spirit when she was a child, and now she was never comfortable in small, dark spaces - unless she was accompanied, on a stake out, with him - usually.

"Hey!" Hugh bent down and picked something up, "doesn't Miss Fisher have some shoes like this?"

It was a low heeled red shoe. The strap had come undone, the button ripped off, possibly in a struggle.

"She does, she wears something like this if she's on the foreshore," Jack turned it round in his hand, "so if this is hers she's around here, somewhere." He looked along the remaining bathing boxes. "Right, check each one, make a noise when you check the padlocks, then wait ..."

"Got it!"

They made a lot of noise, rattling the locks and banging on the doors, now and then shouting her name. After they had shouted at each box they waited to hear her voice.

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Phryne rubbed her shoulder and knee. It had taken most of the youngsters to get her into the bathing box and lock her in. She had no idea what they hoped to achieve by this, the case had been dealt with and the children were not to be prosecuted, this time. One had seen her and they had all run over to her, shouting about how she had spoiled their fun and how their parents had told them they were ashamed of them, public displays of drunkenness ...

Phryne had put her hands up to still the chatter and told them in no uncertain terms that it was for their own good and they needed to wait until they could legally drink something safer and nicer tasting.

"Whaddya think, folks?" one had turned to the group, "does miss high and mighty Phryne Fisher need a taste of her own medicine?"

There were shouts of agreement all round and she was grabbed by the elbows. She fought, pushed and shoved, even threw a couple to the ground but not even the Lady Detective could fight off all of them.

"The bathing box!" the leader shouted, "shove her in there, and give her a drink!"

She was propelled unwillingly into the bathing box they were using and shoved to the ground. Four held her limbs, one each with a couple sitting on her legs to be extra sure and one held her head. His fingers dug into her cheeks and painfully into the healing scar, another held her mouth open and poured the foul, sweet tasting liquid into her throat. She coughed it back up into her mouth and when he forcefully pushed her lower jaw up to make her swallow she sprayed it out between her lips. She wriggled and pushed until the one holding the bottle fell and broke the bottle.

"Hell!" he yelled. "You'll pay for this!"

"You wait!" she bit back.

"Come on! Leave her here," the one holding her head pushed her down onto the floor and just for good measure kicked her in the shoulder. They all ran for the door and as she tried to get up she was thrown down again. The door shut and she sat there, fuming, in the total blackness. She daren't move, there was broken glass over the floor and she knew it was large pieces that could cause a nasty, and possibly fatal, cut. She shook her head and spat the taste from her mouth and cursed. She hated the dark and small places.

"Well, Phryne Fisher, this is a pretty kettle of fish," she muttered to herself, "now how are you going to get out of this? You wanted some peace to think things through - well you've got that, but - this wasn't quite what you had in mind." She blinked and tried to get her eyes used to the light, of lack of it. There was a tiny strip of light coming under the door, and a few from between the wooden planks the box was constructed of. It wasn't enough, though, to give her safe passage to the door. She had heard the lock click shut, and all she could now hear was the distant sounds of the people enjoying the last of a sunny day on the sand. If she knocked and shouted she wasn't sure they would hear her, or if they did, understand.

"Crawl, girl," she hissed, "that way you can feel for the broken glass."

She obeyed herself, pushing her hands in front of her, flicking away the pieces of glass as she found them, and made her way to the door. She pushed against it, solid, more solid than most bathing boxes. She stood up and kicked it, but it barely moved in its frame, she kicked it again more out of frustration than anything else. She was strong, physically, but not strong enough to break down a wooden door. She leant her forehead against the door and blew out in frustration. She wasn't sure of the time but with the lack of noise from outside she assumed it was late - ish. Jack should have returned from the station by now, perhaps he would worry that she hadn't returned when she said she would. He always worried about her, would never stop - he had been honest about that - but he still gave her the space to do what she needed to do and that was precisely why she had not wanted him to go to a boarding house or hotel, the problem she had was their problem and one she now knew she had to discuss with him, before she made a decision that could make or break their partnership.

Phryne didn't know how long she had been standing there but she thought she heard a noise, a rattling like somebody checking they had secured the lock to a box properly.

"Hey!" she shouted and thumped the door, "hey! anybody out there?!"

"Phryne!"

"Jack! Here!" she kicked and punched the door, ignoring the pain in her hand ... "Jack!"

Outside, and about three boxes up from her Jack put his hand on Hugh's arm and stilled him. "Listen," he whispered.

"There," Hugh pointed down the line, "the blue and white striped one?"

"Maybe," he nodded and called her name again, louder.

"Jack!" she heard him more clearly now, "Jack, over here!"

Jack thrust the shoe he was still carrying at Hugh and set off at a run, calling her name again and again.

"Phryne!" he banged each box as he passed but it wasn't until he got to the one Hugh had pointed out that he stopped and pulled at the padlock. "Phryne?"

Inside she knew he was there, at the door, and a wave of relief swept over her. She could allow the hunger pangs and feeling of thirst to resurface, having pushed them away until she was rescued.

"Jack? Jack I'm here," she confirmed.

"Stand back from the door, Phryne, please," he too had heaved a sigh of relief and stood back far enough to kick the door even as he knew they opened outwards. It moved and the metal strap that slipped over the loop shook. It was fairly new, he could see, so somebody was using it to hide something, in this case his lover, but what else? He kicked it again and the wood started to splinter.

"Here, sir," Hugh showed him his baton, "try this." He brought the baton down on the padlock loosening the lock. Jack kicked it again and they found there was now enough room to push something between the wood of the door and the metal, but not enough for the baton. Jack looked about for anything that was slim enough. He found a stone. It had a tapered shape that he could insert between the two materials and with a decisive swing he brought the baton down and the materials separated.

"Hello, Jack," she stepped out into the twilight, smoothing down her rumpled clothes and smiled.

"Miss Fisher," he held out his hand for her, "there you are."

"Indeed, I don't suppose you've found a red shoe, have you?" she smiled, determined to keep up the banter between them.

"Miss ..." Hugh offered her the shoe he had stowed in his pocket, "this one?"

"Thank you, constable," she took it and slipped it on, "that's better."

Jack noticed her give a little shiver, her thin blouse no protection from the evening breeze that now blew across the bay. He slipped his coat off and lay it over her shoulders.

"Why, Inspector," she tipped her head to look at him, "how chivalrous."

He gave a little bow of his head as he noticed her eyes were glistening with tears.

"Collins, would you run back to the house and inform Mr Butler and Dorothy that Miss Fisher is safe and I am bringing her back?" he raised his eyebrows at his officer.

"Gladly sir, they will both be relieved." Hugh straightened his uniform jacket and set off at a trot.

Jack felt her slump against him and sigh, glad that she didn't have to keep up the pretext of being perfectly alright. He pulled her against him and she breathed in the scent of his suit and cologne, his warmth, and briefly closed her eyes.

"Phryne?" he kissed the top of her head, "want to tell me what happened?"

"I wanted some air, to think, so I thought a walk away from the house would be a good idea, and you know I like to stroll along the foreshore," she spoke to his chest, "there were a lot of people around, families having fun, I imagine. It wasn't something we did, as children. I wondered if Georgie had the same freedom on the estate." He let her talk. "There was a group of the children that had been drinking that bootleg liquor, I was surprised, I thought they were to be supervised at all times. Anyway, they weren't pleased to see me and I was going to walk away but they came over to me and blamed me for spoiling their fun ..." she told him what they had done and that she knew each and every one of them.

"Are you hurt?" he stroked her back.

"Bruised, and I have an awful taste from the liquor," she shrugged and winced, "I think they wanted me to drink a whole bottle."

He shuddered not sure if such an amount of the evil brew would have killed her.

"Best get you back," he leant across and pushed the door shut, "that will have to do for that, I shall call the station and ask for someone to come out and secure it, properly."

"I think they are still getting the liquor," she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and they set off towards home.

"Not surprised, but I think we should think about charging them with kidnap and assault, eh?" he looked down at her, "and then look into who is still supplying them with liquor."

She didn't reply, lost again in her thoughts. Jack had come to find her, he had not waited until the morning, he had known she was in trouble. Ever since she had found Georgie in trouble he had been there with her, and had let her lead the way and not asked any questions. And even now he had understood she didn't want Hugh to see her unsure, a little scared and still he didn't ask questions.

"Phryne?" he stopped and turned to her, "is there something wrong, or ... do you want to say something? I must confess I have been a little concerned, you seem - distracted lately."

She looked up at him worry all over her pretty face.

"What is it, love? You know I will help if I can."

"I very much fear you and I might need to have a go at something we don't think we are particularly good at," she sighed.

"Can't think what that would be," he frowned, "we work well together."

Phryne gave a little smile, for once he didn't get the hint.

"Oh Jack," she sighed, "what is the one thing you think you failed at and the one thing I avoid at all costs?"

He looked at her and drew his brows together, then realisation began to dawn. The one think he felt he failed at was marriage and she had always said she was not the marrying kind, surely she wasn't suggesting they need to get married? That would mean ...

"You're not?" he gasped, trying very hard to keep the delight out of his voice. "but how ...?"

She laughed, she actually laughed, finally she could laugh at the situation.

"What's so funny?" he huffed.

"You," she lifted up to kiss him, "do I really have to give you a lesson on the birds and bees?"

"But your device ..."

"I asked Mac about that and she asked some extremely personal questions ... about your technique ..."

"Oh," he blushed, "and ...?"

"It must have been dislodged, or moved during a particularly ... energetic session," she raised her eyebrows, much of their love making was energetic and much of it was tender and sweet never the same twice.

"So the thinking ...?"

"What to do," she pulled him to sit down on a bench, "you know what happened - last time - and I know you're not Rene, but ..." she sighed deeply, "Jack ..."

"It's ok, I understand, I think," he pulled her close. He knew she had to think if she wanted to go through with it, whether she should go away for a couple of days and see to the issue and not tell him, or tell him afterwards - given it was illegal to procure an abortion, or wait and see if he noticed.

"Do you want to be a father?" she asked.

"If I was to be a father there is no one else I would like to be a father with other than you," he stroked her head, "I love you, Phryne, I love what we have now and I love what we will have, so, yes, this time I do want to be a father, but only if you want to be a mother."

She ignored the last part, about being a mother, "And do you agree we should do the right thing?"

"The right thing is to love him, or her, to keep her safe and secure ..." he knew what she was asking and perhaps they should 'do the right thing', "so part of that is not allowing her to be bullied or hurt because we aren't married ..."

"... and there is your reputation, I won't drag your name through the mud, Jack," she pouted, "mine's already there."

"Rubbish," he hissed, "if your name was mud then your Aunt wouldn't defend you, people, of class, wouldn't come to you to solve their problems - don't put yourself down, darling, you are a heck of a lot better than most of them."

"So, how do we go about this?"

"Depends if you want a big wedding or not," he shrugged, he'd had one of those before. It had been a lovely day, he supposed, but long and drawn out and there were a lot of people there he didn't know, given his fiancées family arranged the whole thing, "but I need to go and get a licence."

"If we make a show of it they'll think you're marrying me for my money," she mused, "if we go away and do it quietly they'll know I have to get married and probably think I've trapped you."

"Let's go home," he stood and held his hand out to her, "you need your cuts and bruises looking at and it's getting cold." He didn't like to say she needed to take care of herself, now. "We can talk about it later."

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By the time she had bathed and Mac; called in by Hugh; had tended to her cuts and bruises, cleaning the one on her cheek that would now take longer to heal and told her she would be fine, Phryne just wanted to sleep.

Mr Butler produced from somewhere, a bowl of thick vegetable soup which Dot insisted she eat at least half of it, and as she did so she gave Jack a list of names of those that had assaulted her.

"I shall take Collins tomorrow and we shall go and speak to each one, maybe take them down to the station," he closed his notebook and put it back in his jacket pocket.

"You warned them, Jack," she pushed the empty bowl away, "that if they got into trouble again they would have a criminal record."

"And so they will," he took the tray off her lap. "I think they thought that by hiding you in a bathing box it would give them time to think what they were going to do with you. Their only hope of getting away with it would be to ..."

"... kill me and hide the body," she settled against him, "but I don't think they are clever enough to do that properly. They obviously didn't think you would find me so easily this time."

"Right, enough talk of naughty children, you need to sleep you can hardly keep your eyes open," he kissed her forehead and settled her down in the bed. "I shall be with you shortly, I just want to let Collins know what we shall be doing tomorrow."

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He wasn't surprised that Phryne insisted on joining them to go and see the would be kidnappers. He didn't want her to go but she was adamant and frowned at his obvious protecting of her and their unborn child.

"I'm fine, Jack, really," she stood in front of him and looked into his concerned grey eyes, "and I want to see their faces when they see you have rescued me. I have a feeling they are going to be surprised and it should help you get a confession. "No mention of my 'condition', though, to anybody."

"That was one thing I was going to leave to you, Phryne, I fully expect you to try to keep it quiet right up to the end, though that will be beyond even you." He grinned and kissed her tenderly and slowly.

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The first house they called at the father of the child they wished to speak to was out, but his wife was there, visibly shaken at the sight and story Jack told.

"You see, Mrs Anderson," he turned his hat round in his hands, "what your son, Carter, has done, along with his friends, is kidnap and assault. Miss Fisher has some bruising and the cut to her cheek is not going to heal as quickly as it should, so I am afraid he, and his friends, will now have to face the consequences. This won't go away."

"They were supposed to be studying, at the library," Mrs Anderson wrung a handkerchief in her hands, "that was where Mr Anderson took him, yesterday."

Phryne filed the use of 'Mr Anderson' away, she hoped she would be able to refer to Jack as 'my husband' or 'Jack' when they were married, and not 'Inspector Robinson'.

"Well, that maybe where they met, but I assure you they were on the foreshore," she stepped forward into the better light where her injury could be clearly seen. Mrs Anderson gasped. "By a blue and white bathing box, that was where they imprisoned me. I'm not sure what they hoped to achieve by this, they had been told if they kept out of trouble the records would be destroyed and their names would be cleared."

"Mr Anderson was very angry with Carter," she stuttered, "he told him if he was ever to get in trouble with the police again he would be cut off without a shilling. Carter has always been a bit wild, this was the worst he had done, well up until now, I really don't know what we are to do with him." A tear made its way down her cheek and Phryne felt a little sorry for her. But feeling sorry for the boy wasn't going to do him, or her, any good, but if he got away with this who knows what he would do in the future.

"Well, I need to speak to him," Jack drew himself up, "he is at home, I hope."

"Oh, yes, he's in his room," she nodded, "I'll have him brought down." She called for a maid and asked her to inform master Carter that Inspector Robinson would like to see him, in the parlour. The maid bobbed and, as she turned to Phryne, rolled her eyes.

"Collins, would you wait outside, please," the Inspector murmured, "I shall call you in in due course."

"Sir," Hugh touched the edge of his helmet and nodded.

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Upstairs, Carter Anderson groaned as the maid, none too gently, woke him and told him he was needed in the parlour, immediately, to speak with Inspector Robinson.

"What does he want?" he grumbled sitting up and glaring at the girl.

"Not my place to know, sir," she huffed, "but he and Miss Fisher are waiting with your mother." She turned on her heel and left him to dress. The young master could be a bit of an uppity youngster and more than once had tried to be ungentlemanly to her. She didn't understand it, the Master and the Mistress were such nice people, perhaps he was swapped at birth.

At the name of his nemesis, Miss Fisher, he sat bolt upright and opened his mouth to ask her to clarify but she had already left the room. He rubbed his face with his hand and swallowed.

Cursing, he pulled on a shirt, boxer shorts, socks and a pair of trousers. He tied his shoe laces in a knot and slung the shoes round his neck before opening his window and climbing out and down the drain-pipe. He'd done this numerous times before, usually to attend the illegal drinks parties that had been the initial cause of the trouble he found himself in.

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"Mornin'" Hugh saluted with his baton, "don't you want breakfast?"

Carter landed in a heap at the bottom of the pipe, at Senior Constable Collins' feet - caught!

"Just, it seems an odd way to get the first meal of the day," the young officer hummed, "I usually go down the stairs to the kitchen ..." Hugh played the innocent.

"Er..."

"Right, well," Hugh took his arm, quite firmly but gently, "perhaps ..." he pointed in the direction of the house with his baton.

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Similar events happened at each of the houses they visited, some tried to shimmy down a drain-pipe, some tried to run out of either the front or back door but all in all they tried to make a run for it.

"I never knew so many young men would run from me, Jack," she smirked over a cup of tea in his office, "must be losing my touch."

"Actually, my dearest Lady Detective, I think your touch is far reaching, and you have definitely not lost it," Jack stroked her cheek, "I think they're scared of you."

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It transpired that Carter Anderson was the leader of the group, always where he shouldn't be and up until now they had got away with whatever mischief they had created. It had started out as little annoying things: moving an entire shelf of books in the library to the wrong section, collecting a bucket of frogspawn and replacing the tapioca pudding with it in the school kitchens, then moving up to watering down his father's whisky and encouraging some of his friends to do the same so they could sneak out to the park or foreshore and drink themselves silly. Nobody knew how he found out about the boot leg liquor but he had, and the easiest way to get hold of it.

"Spoiled rotten," Phryne huffed, "really, Jack, they're worse than Georgie, much worse. At least he didn't _set out_ to come to Australia and frighten his parents, it just got out of control. I can't see the school accepting them back, after kidnapping me and being caught with illegal booze."

"Nothing I can do about that," he grunted, "not now, now it's the full weight of the law because I don't think anything else is going to work."

"Does Georgie have to be dragged into this?"

"No, he wasn't involved," he shook his head, "Georgie has learnt his lesson, I think, his was a 'lark' that he admits went too far."

"Good," she nodded, "thank you."

"Nothing to do with me, love," he smiled, "he wasn't there and if he had been I don't think he would have got involved, I have a feeling he's rather proud of his big sister, and would have at the very least gone for help."

"Well," he leant on the desk, close to her, as she was in her customary position, "I have paperwork to do, so I suggest, that if you are not going to help me with that, you pop off home and have a nap, perhaps bathe those bruises of yours."

"Nap?" she huffed, "alright, but I'll save bathing 'til later, then you can massage my neck." She leant down to kiss him, rather more thoroughly than was seemly for his office with the door open.


	6. Chapter 6

They were in court the day the Baroness and Mrs Ballantyne docked in Melbourne. Phryne had asked Cec and Bert if they would pick the ladies up and drive them to Mrs Stanley's home, she would see them as soon as she was able.

Phryne had to give evidence as she was the victim in this case, but it was not easy, it was well known that she and Inspector Robinson were ... close. Their relationship was picked over in court but eventually the prosecuting solicitor reminded the defence lawyer that that had nothing to do with the case, Miss Fisher had been assaulted and locked in a bathing box, that was the why they were in court. "In fact," he grumbled, "it was Miss Fisher that was specifically targeted, if the Inspector was included they would have waited for him to arrive, rather than scarpering, like they did." Fortunately this was at the end of the evidence giving otherwise the case would have been thrown out.

The judge adjourned the session until the following day, they would have to attend to hear the summing up by both lawyers and then the jury would have their time to go and deliberate. Phryne and Jack had promised to go and have dinner with her mother at Prudence's home but really all Phryne wanted to do was sink into a warm bath and have Jack scrub her back.

"Do you want me to make our excuses?" Jack offered as he drove them back to Wardlow.

"No, but if mother starts getting difficult you can suggest we leave, as we have court again tomorrow," she sighed. "I'll cope."

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Make-up couldn't hide the scar on her face, not yet, so it had to be the first thing the Baroness noticed. Though the cut had healed it was still a red line and bruised, but that was from the incident in the bathing box.

"Really, Phryne," her mother huffed, "if only you confined your activities to something more ladylike."

"Good job I don't," she snapped, "or Georgie would still be languishing in the cells at City South."

"Now, Margaret," Prudence had tried explaining what had happened and had been full of praise for her niece, "you should be grateful the Phryne, heaven knows what would have happened if she just sat at home doing some delicate embroidery."

The idea of Phryne sitting doing embroidery made Jack smile, on balance he preferred the Phryne that he knew - his charming freight train.

Margaret frowned and turned her attention to the man standing with his hand on her daughter's hip.

"Inspector Robinson," he extended his hand, "lovely to meet you, Baroness."

She had heard of the Inspector, through Prudence's letters but he seemed rather more forward with her daughter than she expected. Prudence had described their relationship as that of colleagues and friends, but that was because she knew her sister would not be too impressed with her daughter's choice of beau, him being a civil servant, a police officer. Her contact with the police in days gone by had been through Henry's misdemeanours, usually bailing him out of the cells.

"Inspector," she murmured.

Jack could see exactly what she thought but he wasn't going to be anything other than he usually was, he smiled at Mrs Stanley.

"Good evening, Prudence," he bent and kissed her cheek, "how are the boys today?"

"Perfectly well behaved, Jack," she smiled back, "the Major is very pleased with them. They are showing Mrs Ballantyne the gardens. How was court?" she began to lead them to the parlour.

"It all seems to be going in the right direction," he allowed Phryne and the Baroness to precede him, "summing up tomorrow then the jury will go out."

"What do you think will happen?"

"I expect them to be found guilty of assault and kidnap, as to the sentence, it's difficult though, what to do with a group of sixteen year olds. Prison would not help, I don't think," he accepted a whisky.

"Hm, there are reform schools," she sat down and indicated he sit opposite her, "boarding schools for children out of control, do you think something like that would be possible."

"Well, their school has expelled all of them," he sipped his drink, "and they are obviously beyond parental control ... perhaps it would be better for them."

"Perhaps we should give them to the Major," Phryne accepted her cocktail, "how do you think he'd do with another nine boys, Aunt P?"

"More to the point, Phryne, dear," Prudence frowned, "where would we put them?"

Margaret rolled her eyes, "is it really any of your concern?" she grumbled.

"Mother," Phryne tutted, "if it was Georgie ..."

"... but it wasn't."

"It easily could have been," Jack interceded, "he had already spent a night in the cells and if Phryne hadn't been there he would have spent a lot longer there, and then off to a reform school He refused to give his name, Baroness, what do you expect me to have done? Phryne and Prudence are right, they need to be placed where they can learn the error of their ways and be kept so busy they don't have time to get into mischief."

"And, mother," Phryne added, "that hooch they tried to pour down my throat is practically poison, Alistair was a full day and night before he came round, it could have killed me, you'd have wanted something done then, wouldn't you?"

"I still don't think it's up to you to find a place for them," Margaret scowled at her daughter, "really Phryne."

Seeing she wasn't going to get anywhere on this subject Phryne changed the subject to the voyage over.

"Oh, it was quite smooth, for the most part," Margaret sipped a sherry, "we had a lovely suite to share and dined with the captain a few times."

It was Phryne's turn to roll her eyes, her mother could flirt outrageously, in fact she and Henry were as bad as each other, though she wasn't sure her mother had ever gone as far to be unfaithful to her father; Henry on the other hand - well she couldn't be sure.

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Dinner was a lively affair, Prudence had invited Major Elliot to join them and had sat him at her right hand. He was most attentive, Phryne noticed and Prudence visibly brightened in his company. Georgie and Alistair were perfect dinner partners for their mothers which left Phryne with Jack, no hardship there. Margaret watched the two detectives, Jack was his usual self and she noticed that Phryne didn't really flirt with him, she just seemed very comfortable as they told tales and joked about some of the cases they had been involved in.

"Couldn't do it alone, Mrs Stanley," the Major was heard to reply to his hostess, "day and night, got to get some sleep, y'know," he grinned.

Jack realised Prudence was discussing with him the idea, that seed that Phryne had planted, that he school the boys currently facing some incarceration in an institution entirely unsuitable for boys of that age.

"Hypothetically, Major," he said, "it would be doable?"

"Need more staff though, Inspector," Major Elliot considered, "premises, not easy to start off, but I do like the idea. The reform schools are alright but some of these lads need more, and small groups - easier to guide them onto the right path. Take these two tykes," he waved his fork at Georgie and Alistair, "perfectly good lads that just got themselves into a bit of a pickle, nothing that a firm hand and some stern words can't fix. These chaps that assaulted you, Miss Fisher, well they may need a little more, more on the lines of army training: PT, rules and regulations with consequences for stepping out of line - not something we could do quickly enough for those lads." He sighed sadly.

"There is the coach house," Prudence mused.

"Absolutely not, Aunt P!" Phryne gasped, "this is your home!"

"Not a good idea, Prudence," Margaret pursed her lips, "you don't know what you could be letting loose on the estate."

"I can see how it could be a good thing, though," Mrs Ballantyne had thought about this, "if one could find the right place."

"If anyone could do it, you could, Major," Alistair piped up, "'cos I don't know what will happen to those other boys, other than prison. Do they put sixteen year olds in clink, Inspector?"

"Sadly, yes, Alistair," Jack nodded, "and unfortunately if they survive their term they don't usually come out the better for it."

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Jack used the excuse of Phryne's injuries for them to leave earlier than they normally would have done. He could see she was getting increasingly tense around her mother who he had realised was rather a snob, though he wouldn't offer this observation to his lover. Mrs Ballantyne, on the other hand was sweet and gushingly grateful for all they had done for Alistair, she had even remarked he had grown up rather a lot during his stay in Melbourne.

"Perhaps I should leave him here," she teased.

"Mother!" Alistair groaned, "really," he finished with an eye-roll.

"Alistair will always be welcome, here," Prudence jumped in, "I've enjoyed their company, even if it wasn't a good start."

"Aunt Prudence," Georgie grinned, "that's jolly decent of you. I, for one, would love to come back, really."

"Lovely," she patted his hand, "I look forward to it."

It was at this point Jack thought it pertinent to suggest he escort Miss Fisher home. Georgie, and Alistair, now knew the relationship was not as the Baroness surmised, but declined to intimate much more.

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"God, she gets worse," Phryne heaved a heavy sigh, "she was always high and mighty, but ..."

"Sometimes those that come to wealth by circumstances don't quite know how to handle it," he pulled the Hispano neatly into the space at the side of the house.

"But, if she'd not been waltzed by my father she would have attracted someone more suitable, well that's what Aunt P says," she took his hand as she alighted the car, "after all my grandparents were well off, otherwise I wouldn't have had as much a legacy as I do - my money comes from them as well as the Fisher estate. It's not the wealth, it's the position for her, wealth she could handle, but becoming a baroness ..."

"Well, I hope they are proud of you, because you are quite wonderful, in very many ways, darling - generous, not in the least judgmental - heavens you have red raggers at your beck and call," Jack smiled and pulled her close, "but now, bed, woman," he teased, "it's late and I don't have long before I need to be at the station," he raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"Well, who am I to deprive you of sleep, Inspector," she returned the grin.

They didn't quite make it to the bedroom, at first, the parlour was nearest then, when they had satisfied their primal desires, Jack lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to make love to her, again, but this time slowly and deeply and quite thoroughly.

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The defence summing up took longer than the prosecution, the lawyer having something to say about each boy. How they all came from good families and it was just high jinks that got a little out of hand and how they had been easily led. Phryne scowled at that, she wouldn't describe it as 'high jinks' in any way shape or form, her shoulder was still tender from the treatment in the bathing box.

The judge turned to the jury and reminded them they had heard all the evidence, had chance to see the photographs of Miss Fisher's shoulder and the other cuts and bruises, the one on her face, to further inform them.

"Now it is up to you to decide if these boys are guilty of the charges set against them," he watched them leave to deliberate in the jury room.

There was nothing now for Jack and Phryne to do but wait. An usher brought them tea and biscuits and she sipped absent-mindedly, thinking about what would happen to the boys if they were found guilty. _She_ knew they were guilty but it had to be set down in the court as would their punishment. If only they could find some premises that the Major could use, and perhaps a couple more retired army types. She believed that the punishment should fit the crime but they were children and if her father could get away with what he had done in the past then these boys should be given another chance. She sighed.

"Miss Fisher?" Jack noticed her thinking.

"It's just that I think the boys would be so much better off with the Major than in a jail, but how is it to be done?" She set her cup down and looked deep into his eyes.

"I don't know, and it's a matter of time, whatever needs to be done needs to be done today, now," he ran his hand over his hair, disturbing the carefully pomaded strands, a lock fell over his forehead.

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The problem of what to do with the boys had given Prudence Stanley a sleepless night. Margaret was going to be no help but Major Elliot might be. She caught him as he arrived that morning.

"All we need is a small place, enough room for the nine boys, outside space for PT," he smiled at her enthusiasm, "secluded and secure, don't want any runaways."

"Space for the staff, as well, Major," she reminded him that the boys would have to be supervised overnight.

"Exactly, staff will be easier to source than premises, methinks," he huffed, "especially at such short notice."

"Right," she drew herself up, still barely reaching his chest, "the coach house will do for now, it's not used but has enough rooms if the boys share, and a small side room that will do as your room. Come on, hop to it, bring the boys," she headed out of the front door, "come on, Major! " she called over her shoulder.

As Phryne was wondering how the boys could be helped, her aunt, Georgie and Alistair, Mrs Ballantyne and Major Elliot were planning how the coach house could be used as a temporary reform school. It needed a good clean, well there were staff around who could do that, there was a kitchen, small but big enough to prepare meals for the residents, a dining room and a living room. Upstairs there were enough rooms for nine boys sharing, and one room that a teacher could use. It would do for the present.

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Setting her staff to work with Mrs Ballantyne to oversee the work and Major Elliot to find a second teacher Prudence put a call through to City South station. She spoke to Hugh and asked him, if he would be so kind, to tell the Inspector that arrangements have been made for the boys to be schooled securely.

"As I speak to you," she cleared her throat, "the coach house is being cleaned and furnished to hold them, Major Elliot and another teacher."

"Well, Mrs Stanley," Collins gasped and stuttered, "I don't know if the judge will agree to it, but it sounds like a fine idea."

"It's a stop gap, constable," she hummed, "until I can find a proper place to set up a small reform school - it shall be done, Collins, I insist upon it."

Hugh smiled as he signed off, thinking she was being just like Miss Fisher, and he doubted the judge would stand in her way or if he did he would only do it once!

He was still grinning when he arrived at the court and spoke to the Inspector and Miss Fisher.

"I told her not to use the coach house," Phryne threw up her hands, "look what happened when she let that doctor take over the place!"

Jack could not hide his smirk, yes he remembered Dr Samuels, but it would appear Prudence Stanley was as much a freight train as Phryne.

"What're you laughing at?" she glared at him.

"You, you and your aunt are so alike," he sat down and held her hands, "she's just as much a freight train as you are, though (and please don't tell her this) you are the more charming freight train. But - we need to see the judge, and she probably knows him and his wife ..."

"Are you suggesting bribery, Jack?" her eyebrows raised, "of a judge? Inspector, you could lose your badge."

He stood up and held out his hand to her, "I doubt that, not when Mrs Prudence Stanley is involved." He winked.

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The judge listened to what they had to say, to what Mrs Stanley was doing and agreed that if the case went against the boys he was uncertain what to do with them.

"I agree that a prison sentence probably won't do them much good, Inspector, Miss Fisher, and I was wondering what institution I could send them to. You say this Major who tutors your brother and his friend is firm and disciplined?"

"He is," Phryne nodded, "Georgie and Alistair seem to have turned over a new leaf and regret the trouble they have caused and the worry their mothers have been through."

"And if it doesn't work?" the Judge mused, "what do we do with them then?"

"If they don't get the message, your honour," Phryne huffed, "you can do with them what you will."

"Well, as you are the aggrieved party, Miss Fisher, I am going to sentence them to a year at the hands of Major Elliot and Mrs Stanley. Now, I don't know the Major, but I do know Mrs Stanley and I am sure they will get nothing past her." His wife served on some of the same boards as Prudence and had told him many tales of the forthright woman. "At least she gets things done, dear," she had said, "more than can be said for some of your institutions."

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As the verdict was given some of the boys started to cry, some bit their lips but Carter Anderson just scowled. Phryne felt that the Major and her Aunt were going to have more trouble with him.

As they had no formal name for where the boys were to be sent a temporary name was set, that of the 'Stanley-Elliot School for Boys'. Privately, Phryne thought that Aunt P would quite like that. As the judge pronounced his sentence the parents were visibly relieved that their sons weren't to be incarcerated in one of the prisons in the city but where and what was this school he was sending them to?

All became clear in the Judge's chambers where they were told exactly what was to be done with their children.

"I could insist that compensation is paid to Miss fisher, but in lieu of that, you will pay a fee to the school just as if you were paying the usual school fees," he looked along the line of parents and children, "you are very lucky. Miss Fisher did not want your sons sent to a jail at their age, feeling it would see them return to society in a worse state than when they entered the correctional system. Mrs Stanley and Major Elliot have set up a place where the boys will be educated and shown the error of their ways. There will be no weekend visits but you may write - all the details will be given to you when you take them to the Stanley Estate tomorrow morning, eight-thirty sharp. Tardiness will not be accepted!"

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Baroness Fisher was horrified that Prudence had ignored both her and Phryne and had set up the 'facility' in the coach house.

"My house, I shall do what I like," Mrs Stanley had frowned, "and it's not permanent, just until we can find better premises."

"But you don't know anything about these boys, Prudence," Margaret argued, "they could murder us all in our beds!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Margaret, really," her sister huffed, "they are from perfectly decent homes but have been allowed to run wild. Major Elliot will sort them out, just you wait."

Mrs Ballantyne regarded it as a little adventure. She found Prudence an excellent hostess, and had found her suggestions for the school were not pooh-poohed out of hand as they may have been on her estate back in Scotland. She suggested the boys learn to cook, "that way you don't have to loan them your cook all the time, Prudence," she smiled, "at least they could do their own breakfasts."


	7. Chapter 7

In spite of being a little cross with Prudence for opening up the coach house Phryne was also rather proud of her Aunt and agreed that her mother was being dramatic. Still, she would leave them to get on with it, she had things of her own to get on with, such as a wedding, though she still didn't know if she wanted to sneak away and do it quietly or shout it from the rooftops.

So far only she, Jack and Mac knew of her little secret and she wanted to keep it that way. Fortunately, apart from requesting fruit for breakfast each day, there was no change in her tastes, and she didn't suffer from morning sickness. They would have to decide quickly because she would need a dress for the occasion and Madame Fleuri wouldn't do pret a porter for a wedding dress, even though the House of Fleuri now did have such a range.

Jack wanted it to be more her decision than his, felt he had to let her take the lead for her to be happy, comfortable with the idea of marriage.

"Is there a half way point, Phryne?" he put his arm round her after another evening of perusing the situation, "I mean, do the legal bit quietly and have a party afterwards, with family and friends."

"I suppose so, though I feel I need to tell mother and Aunt Prudence before we actually tie the knot," she sighed, "and can we do that?"

"All we need is a couple of witnesses, I checked, and the deed is done," he ran his hand down her arm.

"It does mean I don't need the white and frilly dress," she shivered, not from the cold ...

"White and frilly, if you don't mind me saying, is not you, love," he thought for a moment, "I like you in your white trousers, if you want to go white, and that pale bluey-greeny floaty coat ..." he blushed at his inability to describe the outfit he liked, not that there was anything he didn't like her in.

She giggled, "I think I know which outfit you mean, and married in trousers, that would cause a stir ..."

"...if you were going to go public." He turned her round, "Phryne, it's nobody's business but ours, how we get married ... people will find out soon enough."

"It will get round when we go shopping for a ring," she huffed.

"Have you got a ring that will fit your wedding finger?" he turned her small hand round in his, "I could take it to a jeweller and sort that out, do you want an obvious one or one that is subtle and barely noticeable?"

"Wide or narrow band? I hadn't really thought about it ..."

"Trust me?"

"I trust you," she leaned into him and kissed him.

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It was on a visit to the Stanley Estate to see how the school was going that Phryne found her mother's feelings on her association with the police and a certain Detective Inspector in particular, and they weren't as good as she hoped.

"Do you have to spend so much time in his company, dear?" she asked over tea, "I mean even bringing him to dine with your aunt."

"Firstly, mother, I think I can choose my own friends, now, and secondly, I happen to be rather fond of Jack ..."

"He's a good man, Margaret," Prudence interrupted, "and I enjoy his company, too."

Of course Prudence knew just how 'fond' of Jack Phryne was and she did like him, he was polite, well read and intelligent, much better than some Margaret had hoped Phryne would become involved with.

"Well, I came over to invite you both, and Mrs Ballantyne and the boys, over to a little soiree next weekend," Phryne smiled at her aunt, "no real reason, but the case is closed and the boys have done well. Saturday, around seven?"

"Phryne, that sounds lovely," Prudence enthused, "a little celebration?"

"Er, yes," Phryne cleared her throat, it was not the celebration her aunt was imagining. "So you will come?"

"Of course we will, darling," Margaret agreed, "I haven't seen your home yet and I do have to think about getting back, see what your father has been up to."

"Of course, well, Saturday then," her daughter stood up, knowing she had not told either the reason for the soiree. She had intended to tell both her mother and her aunt that Jack was about to make an honest woman of her but after her mother's remarks she decided not to, though she did want to tell Aunt P. As she left she asked how the boys who had assaulted her were doing.

"Quite well, apart from young Anderson," Prudence smiled, "Major Elliot says he is proving difficult. He blames you for his situation, the Major is thinking he may have to have him placed in a prison, perhaps for a day, just to show him how lucky he is."

"A bit drastic, Aunt P," Phryne hummed, "but I leave it to him, whatever happens I don't have high hopes for that young man."

"Neither do I," they were standing near the study door.

"Aunt P, can I have a private word, out of earshot ..." she nodded in the direction of the parlour.

Prudence opened the door and they entered the room, "What is it, dear?" she closed the door.

"It's just that I'm a little disappointed in mother's reaction to Jack," she sighed, "and really the soiree is a celebration, but not of the success of the case. Jack and I are getting married, quietly, and we want our friends and family to share the day with us. We are going to do the legal bit on Saturday afternoon, no fanfare, no notice in the paper ..."

"Oh darling, that's wonderful," Prudence hugged her, "I am so pleased for you both. But, isn't it cause for a fanfare, as you describe it?"

"Jack's been through it before, I feel it should be a private thing between him and me, but we still want everybody we care about to share the celebration, otherwise we would have eloped to Geelong or somewhere ..." she grinned.

"That, my dear, is no more than I would expect, and still you wouldn't have told anyone, so I suppose I should be grateful," Prudence touched her arm. "Don't worry about your mother, when she finds out, at the soiree, I shall remind her of her falling for Henry at the twilight waltz."

"Thanks, Aunt P," Phryne put her hand on the door handle, "see you Saturday."

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Dot and Hugh looked in surprise at the destination when Phryne pulled up outside City Hall.

"Miss?" Dot stepped out of the car.

"Jack and I need you to witness something for us," Phryne slipped her hand through the crook of Jack's elbow.

"Witness?" Hugh took Dot's hand and blinked, "witness what?"

"Our marriage, Collins," Jack smiled, "mine and Miss Fisher's."

"Miss, why are you sneaking around, is this what tonight's soiree is about?" Dot brushed an imaginary piece of fluff off the chiffon coat over the white trousers and top.

"We want this to be just us, Dot," Phryne smiled, "me and Jack, but we need two witnesses and who better that you two? Come on now, I don't want to be late."

Dot witnessed the wedding, if you could call it that, through a haze. She was delighted for her mistress and the Inspector but she was slightly shocked that Miss Fisher chose to wear trousers to be married in. She was pleased to note Miss Fisher bowed to convention and would be wearing a ring, a rather nice one of twisted red, white and yellow gold. She understood the civil wedding, the Inspector was divorced after all, but the secrecy, surely it was a cause for celebration.

As they walked out of the rather ordinary room and into the light of day there was no one to take a picture, and Phryne told her there would be no notification in the papers.

"People will find out, Dot, but this is our day, no one else's," she patted her companion's hand.

"Of course, Miss, er Madam."

"Miss will do just fine, Dot."

"Does your mother know?"

"No, not yet," Phryne shook her head, "Aunt P does but mother doesn't really approve of my closeness to Jack so rather than have her try and stop it ..."

"Right," Dot had that worried expression when Miss Fisher went off to do something rash, "so ..."

"The deed is done, Dorothy," Jack smiled, "and anyway, isn't this what she wanted, Phryne married?"

"If you put it like that, Inspector, I suppose so," Dot smiled, after the hoops she and Hugh had gone through, trying to placate each other's mother, this was probably the best way.

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Phryne changed into the dress she wore to celebrate her birthday after they had found Janey. Jack said it marked the start of her new life and as they were starting another new life, together, perhaps ...

"While I can still get into it, Jack," she teased, pulling him back down onto the bed. After returning from City Hall they had gone up to the bedroom to do what newly married couples do, and done it thoroughly. Phryne would like to have stayed there for the next couple of days but as Jack pointed out, it would have her mother storming up the stairs to give her a piece of her mind, neglecting her hostessing duties.

"Phryne, you look fantastic!" Georgie gasped as he walked through the door, "blimey are the boys at home going to be shocked when I show them what an amazing looker I have for a sister."

"Thank you, Georgie," she laughed, "but how are you going to convince them of that?"

"Me 'n' Allie have gone together to get a camera and take some pictures to prove we got here, even if we shouldn't have." He showed the instrument, "please let me take a picture of you."

"Later, perhaps," she smiled, "I suppose you intend to dine out on the story for years ..."

"Maybe," he grinned.

Margaret harrumphed her disapproval as she looked round the hall.

"Come and see the rest of the house, mother, a quick tour while Mr Butler serves drinks," Phryne held out her hand, she had planned this, a chance to get her mother alone and tell her what she had done. It would also give Margaret time to compose herself before she saw Jack.

"Shouldn't I be with you, to greet our guests, love?" he had mused.

"Usually, you're right, you should be, but given mother's current attitude would you mind looking after Aunt P for me?" She did her wide eyed and innocent look.

"No, of course I wouldn't," he bent and kissed her gently.

"Prudence," Jack smiled and bent to kiss her cheek, "so glad you could come."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Jack," she grinned conspiratorially, "now come and tell me what you and Phryne have been up to, lately, no cases."

"Nothing of note," he offered her his arm and escorted her into the parlour, where Phryne was showing her mother the paintings and the piano.

"You don't really play though, dear," Margaret ran her hand along the highly polished lid.

"No, but Jack does, rather well," Phryne looked over at her husband and gave a sly wink. He just rolled his eyes in reply.

Phryne took her mother upstairs and showed the bedrooms, explained the alterations she had had done, like the en-suite bathroom for her bedroom, thankfully restored to order by Dot it was here she decided to tell her mother that she was now the Honourable Mrs Phryne Robinson.

"You married a copper!" she almost shrieked, Phryne was glad she had closed the door. When she was angry or upset her clipped English accent slipped back into the Melbourne of her younger days, not quite as Collingwood as Phryne's but ...

"Jack is more than just a 'copper', mother," she pulled her down to sit on the bed, "he is my friend and partner, the best I have met in a long, long time. I couldn't have coped with Foyle and finding Janey without him, even he doesn't know how much he held me up then, or does now. He is a heck of a lot cleverer than half the men you have introduced me to, well read - how many men do you know who can quote Shakespeare at the drop of a hat, eh?"

"Phryne," Margaret narrowed her eyes, "has he got you in the family way, because if he has, you can do something about it, you know, you don't have to marry him?"

"Mother, just accept it, I am married to Jack, I want to be married to Jack and nothing you can say will change that." Phryne tossed her head and stood up, "now come down and celebrate with us, please." She wasn't going to confirm, or deny, her mother's suspicions, denying it would be a lie, and confirming it would only give her something else to rail at her about, besides, being adamant about the marriage made her even more sure she had done the right thing.

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The rest of the evening went swimmingly. Phryne and Jack laughed with their guests, danced and drank, though Phryne stuck to only a couple of glasses of champagne. Mr Butler had prepared a magnificent buffet or all their favourite foods, including the Inspector's preferred sandwiches. The Baroness relaxed a little after a stern word from her sister, and Mrs Ballantyne seemed to really enjoy herself. She found a soul mate in Mac over a discussion on the merits of one malt whisky over another. Phryne thought she had come out of her shell this past month, at first seeming a little timid when offering ideas for the boys then becoming more bold. Phryne wondered how put upon she was, up in the wilds of the Scottish highlands.

The newlyweds bid their guests goodnight, in the wee small hours, Georgie got his picture, one of the both of them in the garden, he promised if it turned out well he would send them a copy.

"I suppose it will be the only wedding photograph," he grinned. "I think I shall also have one framed and put where mother can't avoid it."

"She'll come round," Prudence touched his arm, "Phryne is too much a mix of both her parents, and I think she had chosen well, even if a year ago I would have probably agreed with Margaret. For once I'm glad I was proved wrong."

"Thank you, Aunt P," Phyrne kissed her cheek, "and thank you for coming."

"Always a pleasure, Mrs Robinson," she smiled.

"I think I like that," Phryne murmured to Jack as her aunt walked down the path.


	8. Chapter 8

**Epilogue.**

**The following year:**

Georgie leant over the crib, "she's pretty amazing, your mother," he whispered to the wide-eyed baby waving her little fists about and blowing bubbles. "Never forget that, your parents are strong and clever and love you very much. They'll always have your back, you'll never want for anything, and they will show you the way to be the best you can be."

"Georgie," Phryne came silently behind him, "I hope you aren't giving Psyche ideas."

"She's lovely, sis," he put his arm round her, "and you never told any of us."

"It was our secret until it wasn't. I had a bad experience, long ago in France, I needed to be sure and then to get through it," she smiled down at her daughter, "if it had been anyone else but Jack she wouldn't have happened, he adores her ..."

"... and her mother," the subject snuck in just as quietly, "they're both incredible."

"Congratulations, Jack," Georgie shook his hand.

"Thank you. You managed to persuade your mother to let you come back, then?"

"Took some doing, especially after this one was born, but Allie's here too, we were escorted by his mother. They're at the Windsor, though Phryne has invited them here and Aunt Prudence has invited them to stay with her," he nodded.

"Well it's good to see you, and well done for keeping out of trouble." Jack patted his shoulder.

"If Alistair and his mother stay with Aunt P you can catch up with Major Elliot, he's courting her," Phryne whispered, "but don't say anything."

"Really," Georgie's eyes widened, "gosh!"

"Quite."

"Oh, by the way, Mrs Ballantyne has a bottle of fine malt for Dr Macmillan, it's one she doesn't think she's tried, a lowland, apparently," he looked puzzled.

"I think they got into discussion at the wedding party about which ones were best. Mac has Scottish heritage," Phryne smiled, Mac had confided she and Morag corresponded rather frequently. "How about I invite the Ballantynes to dinner and I'll ask Mac to come along as well."

"Super."

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Phryne was right about Mac and Morag Ballantyne but all she was going to do was be there if it went south, with the geographical distance between them.

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_I am going to stop there, before I ramble on incoherently, though some may say I already have. You, dear reader, can make your own minds up as to how little Psyche Fisher-Robinson grows up and whether or not Georgie sticks to the straight and narrow, though he may appear on other fics. Oh, and Aunt P and Major Elliot? Your guess is as good as mine._


End file.
